Clocks and Closed Doors
by goldnox
Summary: Sequel to Mirrors and Broken Things. Much has happened since the memorial, and time changes everything. So now that the end has come for Stefan and Elena, will the door finally be open for Damon to be with the one he's waited for? A walk thru of episode 4x07 My Brother's Keeper. Canon for the scenes in the episode, non canon for what happened when the camera stopped. Delena.
1. All the Good Nights

**A/N: Okay guys! So, I never actually planned to write a sequel to Mirrors and Broken Things, but the response was so warm and overwhelming and the requests kept streaming in every day, so you won! You have fully succeeded in convincing me to expand into another episode! If you haven't read MBT, please go check it out, and thanks all so much for the endless support!**

**So we are kicking off with Elena POV, and much like Mirrors this will be a sequence of Canon and Non Canon events that take us thru the episode. Enjoy!**

**Huge Shout out to Trogdor19 who did the world's fastest beta on this! You are so amazing! **

**Episode point of reference: Beginning pre 4x07 with the end of the big break up scene between Stefan and Elena on her front porch (end of 4x06).**

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**ELENA POV**

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**All the Good Nights**

We stand up together, still silent an hour after the final words spoken. There's nothing else to say.

I don't know if he's looking at me, because I'm not looking at him. I turn my back on the first vampire I ever loved and walk inside the house as his quiet steps fade down and off my porch. The steady fall of his feet disappear as my hand grips the doorknob, and I gently close the door that's between us.

No reverberating slam, no screaming, just a slow and quiet good-bye.

I step back into the hallway and look at my front door. I have a faint memory of collapsing against it, chest heaving as I sobbed for us. Sliding down the wood to the floor in one of our many previous break-ups, feeling empty and lost.

This time is different.

We both knew it, and I'm glad he said the words. I know it hurt him that I didn't fight it, but I am fighting for what I want.

It's just not him.

It doesn't feel like failure, like I thought it would. I tried, he tried, but it was pointless. I know better now than to cling to the past. It won't bring back the dead, it doesn't erase the lies. It's been a hard lesson learned, and I still don't know if Stefan has ever grasped it because he's still battling to reclaim things long since gone. Who he was as a human, who I was as a human.

But there is no going back, because those are only ghosts behind us. Traces of memories that are beginning to fade, and the tighter we hold to them the more they slip through our fingers. Eventually you have to let go.

So I did.

I take a deep breath and wipe my eyes of the tears that I was crying. I don't think he understands why they were there. He probably thinks it was because we were over, and in a way, it was. But that wasn't all.

It was relief, too. The confidence and pride that I was making the right decision, the one I hadn't been sure of for months, but am now. The awareness that while I pained him today by surrendering, that I was also sparing him months of anguish from continuing to wrestle with duty, obligation, the meaning of commitment and when it was right to break it.

I love him enough to let him go, because I don't love him enough not to hurt him.

I leave the door behind and head into the kitchen, running the hot water so I can wash the dishes. It feels like I should be doing something bigger in this moment, something momentous to mark the beginning of the new life ahead of me.

I could go upstairs and pack away all the things he gave me, all the items that lay in my room as evidence of him. I could sort through it all, crying with weepy tears as I recall each memory, then placing them one at a time in a cardboard box. I would tape it up, maybe writing his name on the side before hiding it in the back of my closet so it's there for when I want to remember, years from now.

Instead I pour soap over the stack of plates and wait for the bubbles to froth.

This will be my new normal, not waiting for him to return, to feel, to stop worrying if what he's telling me is the truth. I'll probably always wonder because no matter what, I know he will continue to be in my life. Just not in the way he was before.

I'll still see him every day, just as a man with whom I have a complicated history. Hopefully, one day, as a friend. But for now, just my ex and the brother of the one I want.

It's not like the movies where they move away never to be seen again. I guess he could, but I know he can't. He won't leave his brother, and I'm sure he still wants to find the cure that he didn't tell me about.

It won't be the first time we've moved around each other, circling and knowing that even though once we would speak to each other about our future, now that future will be nothing like we imagined. He will still come to my house and knock on my closed door, and I'll let him in. But he won't flood me with kisses or sweep me upstairs. He'll stay downstairs where it's safe for him to roam.

And I'll still be at his house, sitting in the parlor with a drink in my hand and my feet propped up, looking into a steady fire while I contemplate all my life has come to. But when I sit on his couch, hopefully it'll be Damon's arm that I'll lean my head against as he drapes it on the cushion behind me.

And when I'm tired and want to sleep, it won't be Stefan's sheets I crawl between or even the ones in my own designated room, equal distance between theirs. He'll still bid me goodnight and climb the stairs, but when he closes his bedroom door I'll be on the opposite side, hoping the first light to greet my eyes the next morning will be streaming through Damon's windows.

It will all be so different, and the same.

I leave the thought behind as I finish the dishes and wipe down the counters, taking my time as I sweep the kitchen. I work through the house methodically, dusting and straightening. There's really not that much to do, but I still do it anyways. It makes me feel normal, to keep doing mundane things even though my life is anything but.

I wonder if that's why Damon does it.

I know he's the reason behind the tidiness that has taken over my house, especially since I've been too distracted to really keep up with it and Jeremy's never been one for chores.

I smile to myself as I open the hall closet to get the vacuum out. Someone organized it, rescuing it from its constant state of chaos. I can just picture him standing here, rolling his eyes as he shook his head and probably muttering a curse word with my name attached to it for letting it get so bad. But he still took everything out, reorganizing the space so I could reach the blankets I use the most and placing the spare linens on the highest shelf.

I run my fingertip along the ledge in front of me, and it's clean. Not a speck of dust to be found because he never misses a detail.

I change my mind about the vacuum, I've done enough cleaning for now and instead go sit on the couch. I guess I should feel a little more jittery, a little off balance, but I'm really not. After everything that's happened in the past few weeks, ending my relationship with Stefan has felt like the easiest of them all. And with the exception of my psychotic break yesterday, I have begun to feel more stable.

I've been able to return to school and sit in class, talking about biology and calculus and history and literature without sizing up the easiest prey in the room. It's still there, the need to lure out the weak and gain my strength from their life, but I can focus. I can decide.

I still can't drink from blood bags without getting sick, but since Damon taught me how to feed without killing I've felt so much better. Not sick, not shaky, not starving, but powerful and strong. I still hate the sound it makes when my fangs pierce their skin, but I try to make up for it when I compel them afterwards.

He told me that when I "erase" I can leave something behind, something good if it makes me feel better. So I do.

At first it was little things.

_Obey the speed limit and wear your seatbelt. _

_Don't drink or text while driving._

_Take care of yourself; you're worth the time and effort. _

Then I started asking questions to find what they needed me to fix; it's only fair if they're healing me that I do the same.

_Call your parents and tell them you love them, even though you're mad. They're the only parents you'll ever have, and they won't be here forever._

_There are no mistakes, only questions that remain to be answered. _

_Don't be afraid to love the one you want._

He acts like he doesn't understand why I do it, but I know that's crap. He can roll his eyes and sigh and huff and walk off, telling me I'm taking too long and I'm going to put therapists out of work, but it's not going to stop me. And I've heard him do the same, just to a lesser degree.

He'll compliment them on their taste or tell them to buy more shirts in the color they're wearing, sending them off with a renewed sense of confidence and self-esteem. I act like I don't notice, but I do.

I chuckle to myself as I pick up a book and open it. He's such a faker.

I lose myself in the assigned reading for my English class, the hours passing by as I wait for Jeremy to come home. He finally strolls in through the front door just after the clock strikes eleven.

"Where you been, Jer?" I call from the couch as I hear him open the refrigerator.

"Out." He rustles around in the shelves for a bit, but then closes it and heads for the stairs.

"Who were you with?" I ask suspiciously.

"No one," he says as he takes the first two steps in one long stride and continues his way up quickly.

"Is there something you want to-"

"Goodnight Elena," he says and shuts his door, locking it.

"'Night to you too," I mutter as I close my book and toss it on the coffee table.

I yawn as I stretch, and I know I should go to bed. It's late, and even though I slept late after Damon brought me home from Wickery Bridge, my hours are off. Not to mention tomorrow is going to be one hell of a day.

I'm supposed to go over to the Lockwood's to help Caroline set up for the Miss Mystic Falls pageant, and that has relaxing afternoon written all over it. Yeah, right. More like hours of over-picky instructions saddled with guilt over breaking up with Stefan. Awesome.

I get up and move through the house, turning off the lights and locking all the doors. I remember my Dad doing this when I was a kid, then Jenna, then Ric. Now it's me. I wonder if when I eventually move away if Jeremy will remember to double check the back door because it doesn't catch right if you don't pull on it a bit.

I turn off the last light as I climb the stairs and go to my room, stripping off my clothes to change into my camisole and pajama shorts once I shut my door. All my motions are the same as they have been for years; I brush my hair and teeth, washing my face and hands before getting in bed.

Just a normal, life changing day.

I stare at the ceiling in my dark room and listen to the minutes tick by. They seem so small when compared to the eternity that's stretching out in front of me, but they're still going too slow. I don't need to, I could just count, but I still check the clock on my night stand.

12:07

12:43

1:21

2:18

He's late.

Maybe he won't come, sometimes he doesn't.

Damon and I haven't had sex since the night of the memorial; we both knew that it was unfair to all three of us until I made a decision. And during that long, wonderful night, we had agreed that it was only once. He hasn't even kissed me, other than on my cheek, forehead or shoulder.

But more and more, late at night after everyone goes to sleep, he comes in through my window and crawls into bed with me.

Most of the time we don't say anything other than a whispered "Goodnight." We don't talk about how he waits to make sure Stefan isn't here, which he never is. Or how he's always gone before sunrise to disappear before he's found. We don't acknowledge anything, other than we just need to be close after our increasingly stressful days.

At 2:34 I hear the sound of a boot hitting my carpet and I smile. I turn my head to watch him as he locks my window and closes the curtains, putting one foot behind the other to slip off his shoe. He stumbles.

"Fuck," he hisses as he crashes to the floor, hitting his head on the foot of my bed with a moan.

"Damon, are you okay?" I whisper as I rush from my bed, crouching down beside him.

"Never better," he slurs and his head lolls to the side away from me. He reeks of bourbon.

"You're drunk."

"Nope," he smiles lazily, his eyes closed. "Hammered, Elena," he declares proudly. "Hammered."

"Any particular reason?" I sigh at him.

"New bartender at the Grill needed breaking in."

"Right," I mutter and pull off his boots, tossing them over by the window.

I grab his hands and haul him forward so he's sitting up, his legs stretched out in front of him. He reaches behind his head to pull off his shirt, but he forgot to unbutton it first and it gets caught on his chin. I try not to laugh as I pull it back down, freeing him from the strangle hold he wrapped himself in.

"What the hell, Elena?"

"Buttons," I tell him as I start to undo the ones at the top.

He looks down at my hands, a burst of a chuckle coming out when he sees that I'm right.

"Oops," he grins, slightly swaying as I do just enough to slip it back over his head with ease, his arms dead weight as they drop back to his sides.

"How you doin'?" he mumbles as I get up to place his shirt on a hanger, hooking it on the back of a chair so it won't wrinkle. "You still need a psych eval or you holdin' up?"

"I'm fine, Damon," I smile as I kneel and take his hands again, pulling him to his feet. "No ghosts, no suicide attempts. All's well that ends well."

"Sweet," he smirks giving me two thumbs up, then his face becomes serious though his eyes are still glassy. "Humanity switch?"

"Upright and locked position."

He yanks me to him a little harder than normal, too intoxicated to pay attention to his strength as he crosses his arms behind my neck and hugs me. He must really be wasted because he normally doesn't do this. He'll hold me, but he's not big on hugs and never has been.

I wind my arms around his waist, marveling at the softness of his bare skin and drinking in the aroma that is better for my nerves than any amount of pharmaceuticals. I want to tell him what happened today, but not until he's sober and we can actually talk about it.

I stiffen as a thought crosses my mind; I wonder if he knows.

It's possible Stefan already told him, it would explain the drinking.

"Damon…"

"Nope, not tonight," he slurs. "Bed. Everything else, tomorrow."

I relax into his chest, I can live with that. One more night won't hurt, and he probably wouldn't remember any of this anyways.

"Okay," I agree quietly and he lets out a deep sigh, causing me to sink into him. "Pants on or off?" I ask, tilting my head to look up at him.

"Like you have to ask," he smirks.

I release his waist and unbuckle his belt, his abs clenching as my fingers brush his skin.

"Damon Salvatore, are you ticklish?" I tease as I lightly pepper my nails on his stomach.

"Hell no," he grumbles, but its effect is ruined from him jerking away from my touch and a small grin peeking up at the corner of his mouth.

"Uh-huh, you wanna try that again?"

"Oh, and like you aren't?" he says, narrowing his eyes and going after the spot on my hip that he knows makes me giggle until I cry.

"Damon, stop," I laugh, my knees starting to buckle. "I can't breathe, that's not fair…"

"Tough, and breathing's overrated anyways."

I barely see him as he blurs and bends down, one arm touching my back and the other catching me behind my knees and then I'm loose in the air, landing with an awkward bounce on my bed.

"Damon!"

"What?" He flares his hazy eyes as he steps out of his pants, revealing the black boxer briefs he's taken to wearing since he started sleeping over.

"No throwing," I scowl at him as he flops down on the covers next to me. "You're gonna break my bed."

"Mmm, I'd love to try," he growls as he rolls over on top of me, hooking my leg around his waist and stroking the back of my thigh. "Your turn…"

"For what?"

"If I'm not wearing pants, you can't wear shorts. Fair is fair."

"Yeah, but you're wearing underwear…"

His eyes widen with his grin as he catches my meaning, and he wastes no time in sliding his hand further up my leg and under the thin fabric, caressing my bottom and confirming I'm bare underneath.

I'm more than a little stunned at his lack of restraint. Normally he's very careful not to cross any lines of temptation that we may not make it back from, and we haven't gone any further than snuggling since the memorial. But whatever he's been drinking seems to have firmly pushed all those unspoken agreements from his mind, and he's not holding back tonight.

"Ugh," he groans, rocking his hips forward and pressing his erection against me. "You're killing me, Elena."

"Sorry," I smile.

"Why are you so mean to me?" he pouts, sticking out his bottom lip.

"Because you're drunk," I tell him softly.

"Pfft, so are you…"

"No," I laugh and shake my head. "I'm not."

"Well, we can fix that. I've got a bottle stashed around here somewhere…" he says and looks around my room like he's trying to remember where it is. I know, and I could tell him, but I'm not going to.

"You need sleep, Damon."

"I'll sleep a lot better if you-"

"Don't," I cut him off, laying a finger over his lips, "finish that sentence."

He nips at my finger and I pull it away with a shocked gasp.

"Killjoy," he frowns at me.

"Caveman."

"You love it," he smirks and I don't answer, because I do. I blush without meaning to, and I know he sees the truth. He always does.

"Come on, Fred, get up because we're not sleeping sideways."

"The name's Damon, sweetheart," he glares at me and I can't help but laugh as I push him off me and stand up.

"Flintstone, honey, Flintstone," I explain as I grab his hand and make him stand so I can pull back the comforter on his side.

"Why thanks, Elena, for comparing me to some fat, middle-aged bum who likes to bowl and has dirty feet," he whines as I push him back down on the bed so his head hits the pillow.

"My pleasure," I wink as I cross to the other side of the bed, climbing in next to him and letting him pull the covers up around us.

I go right to my spot on his shoulder, my arm falling over his chest and my hand resting over his heart. He covers it with one of his, placing a soft kiss to my forehead.

His breathing is already deeper, his heartbeat more steady than before.

"You okay?" I whisper a few minutes later as he sleepily traces patterns on my back.

"Just tired," he mumbles and I know he must be.

I've been putting him through hell these past few weeks. He didn't stay with me two nights ago, the day that I killed Connor. He must have thought I was mad at him about it, or maybe that I just needed to be alone; that's what I told Stefan. But he couldn't have gotten more than three hours of rest because I woke him up in the middle of the night, calling him in a blind panic to come over because I stabbed Jeremy in the neck.

And yesterday must have been a nightmare for him. With me getting stolen by Klaus while going insane, him searching for me all night and trying to break the curse, then the grand finale of trying to set myself on fire via sunlight, it's no wonder he's wasted. I doubt he got any sleep while waiting for me to wake up after he brought me home this morning. I still can't believe he found my ring in the river, scouring the bottom with one hand while he held me to him and protected me from the sun.

By my count it's been almost a solid 48 hours that he's been up. Probably longer.

He must be exhausted.

His hand stills on my back and I feel his muscles soften under me, silently releasing all the tension he's been carrying.

He's already asleep.

I smile to myself and carefully shift so I can reach up without waking him, laying a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Mmm," he rumbles and his hand on my back presses me closer to him.

"Goodnight, Damon," I whisper and snuggle into him, nuzzling his neck.

"'Night, Elena," he slurs and his head turns towards me, but he's asleep again before he can even kiss me.

* * *

Something tickles my shoulder, but I'm too tired to open my eyes and find out what it is. Instead I squirm a bit and it goes away.

Good, now I can go back to sleep.

It touches me again and I frown, but my irritation disappears when I hear a quiet chuckle and I concentrate on what it is.

Soft, wet, and hot. It's his tongue.

I half open one eye and smile. Damon is leaning over me and he looks a lot better than he did last night, less stressed and thankfully sober.

"Morning," I breathe, opening both eyes so I can see him clearly.

"Good morning." He smiles back at me, brushing the hair away from my face and laying a soft kiss to my forehead. "Go back to sleep, and there's coffee ready when you get up. You just have to start it," he whispers.

"You're dressed," I grumble.

"Gotta get home, take a shower, plan Klaus' murder, etc…"

"What time is it?" I ask with a yawn, and his shoulders shake with silent laughter.

"It's 5:30."

"You didn't sleep long enough, you have to stay," I pout at him and he smiles my favorite smile, the one that's just for me. I could so get used to this. "Damon," I say and take a deep breath, "I have to tell you something…"

"So call me later," he tells me and places one last kiss to my shoulder before he's opening my window, and then he's gone.

I scoot over to his side of the bed, breathing in his smell that's on my pillow. It's all the comfort I need because I'm already a little nervous about today.

I can't wait to tell him.

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**A/N: So there we have chapter 1! This is planned to be roughly the same length as MBT, which means we have lots to go! So click that little button to follow, because this is gonna be one fun ride! Thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	2. The Best Day

**A/N: HOLY BUCKETS! What an opening response! Absolutely blown away by the love and support you guys, just in pure awe. **

**This chapter is dedicated to _rebelliousheart_ and _nianinmypants_ who (with the help of auto correct) came up with the best nickname for MBT, just ever, and it will now forever be lovingly known as Muffins and Diseases. Y'all are the best! **

**Many many many thanks to _Trogdor19_ who is the fastest beta this side of the...well, just ever. Anywhere. I'm convinced. **

**Episode point of reference: We are picking up right at the end of chapter 1 in non-canon land, and heading into the beginning of the episode when Stefan is flexing his muscles and he and Damon have a little chat. Enjoy!**

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**DAMON POV**

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**The Best Day**

I leave Elena's window behind and land without a sound. Nothing can weigh me down when I get to start my mornings with my girl.

She's so damn cute when she first wakes up. They could put pictures of a sleepy Elena on notebooks and t-shirts and the whole kitten/puppy/unicorn trend would go right out of business.

During the night her hair becomes a tangled mess, the work of her straightener fading and soft waves and curls starting to make their presence known. Her cheeks are warm and a little rosy from all the damn blankets she insists on sleeping under, and when I pull her comforter back so I have access to her skin she squirms and wiggles and pouts like a little kid.

The best part? When I finally coax her eyes open, the first thing she does is smile when she sees me. I live for that smile, and every day I get it is the best day of my life.

The first time I saw that smile, it completely stopped me in my tracks. I didn't know what she was going to think when I woke her up, but I didn't expect such warmth in her eyes, that look of wanting me there with her.

I had come in through her window the night before, and I wasn't supposed to be there but I couldn't stay away. She had lost control feeding on Matt, and I left her after she calmed but I knew she was barely holding it together. I waited a few hours to see if Stefan would arrive to stay with her, curious how long it would take before she would call him to comfort her.

She didn't call him, and he never showed.

When I landed in her room she was still awake, sitting in bed and writing in her journal with her blankets around her. She didn't say anything. She just smiled and cocked her head like she was asking what I was doing there.

I didn't say anything either.

But then she pulled back the comforter on the empty side of the bed, and that was it. I stripped off my clothes except for my boxers and got in with her. She was quiet as she turned off her lamp and laid her journal on her bedside table, setting the alarm on her clock before she snuggled into me. A soft kiss on her cheek and a whispered "Goodnight" and not even five minutes later she was asleep in my arms.

I barely slept while I held her. I didn't want to run the risk of staying too late, and the alarm she set wouldn't give me enough time to get home before Stefan was up. Besides, it was too difficult when an hour later she started shifting restlessly and I knew she was having a nightmare. I listened for a minute to her ragged breathing and her racing heart, pulling her closer before I carefully roused her from her dream.

She opened her eyes and they were glistening with tears from whatever image was haunting her. I wanted to ask what it was, to assure her that it was in the past. But I didn't question her. I wasn't going to make her dwell on whatever was bothering her, and she didn't tell me.

"Just a dream," I whispered. "You're safe."

Her bottom lip quivered as she nodded, nestling closer into me and inhaling my scent. I took a deep, exaggerated breath and she followed my lead, drawing a few with me as she calmed herself. And with my hands in her hair lightly massaging her scalp, soon she was asleep again.

I made myself rise and get dressed before she was awake, and as we talked before sunrise broke I reiterated my promise that I would help her learn to be the type of vampire she could accept herself as. She didn't want to stay in town and feed on people she knew, and I was more than happy with the idea of getting her out of town. She's always a little less stressed and more free when it's just the two of us.

She laughs more. Smiles more. She remembers how to have fun.

Elena, master planner, insisted on us going with Bonnie to check out some college. Definitely not my first choice to have to the Mistress of Judgment present while I schooled Elena in my perfected techniques for acquiring breakfast, lunch and dinner. I could just imagine the looks of disappointment she was going to be showering us with, and it was going to be difficult enough convincing Elena to cope with who she was without the added guilt-tripping.

Unfortunately, Elena didn't feel that way and actually thought the condemnation would help keep her in check. It was either go with Bonnie, or not go at all.

Fucking fantastic. I just _love_ ultimatums.

She didn't protest as I grumbled and glared, promising to pick her up in a few hours so she could get ready and then away we went. Stefan was jealous and pissed, which was great. And I got to take a scantily dressed Elena to a party where she danced and laughed with me, wiping blood from my mouth and licking it from her fingers. Major win, all around.

Until her asinine friend swooped in with a disgusted glare and the shame came raining down. Suddenly I was the bad guy for allowing her to have five minutes of a pleasant existence, getting her to forget that her whole family was dead except for her brother and for _not_ pretending like she was still someone she hadn't been in over two years.

Give me a fucking break.

I really think Bonnie and every single one of her "friends" just wants to keep Elena all gloom and broody and reaching for the razor blade because it makes them feel better about themselves. They get to spend their days "being a good person by being there for their friend" and if they get to pity her, they can disregard their own pathetic lives.

Fuck that. I'm not going to let them use her to better their own lack of self-esteem.

She doesn't need pity, and she would be fine if everyone would just let her move on.

Sure, for a while, her life sucked.

But things are finally looking up for the girl. She's a vampire now, she can protect herself and she should be celebrating the fact that she'll be around for Jeremy as he grows up. Klaus isn't going to steal her for hybrid population growth or breed her out to ensure the continuation of the Petrova line, and we avoided all of that without him killing everyone she's ever met. We actually won.

But no, they want to constantly remind her that her life has been one constant disaster and that it's not normal for her to be happy. And if she is happy, that must mean I'm manipulating her and something is terribly, terribly wrong.

I can't wait to get her out of this fucking town.

Hell, I can barely contain myself at the idea that I could get more than three hours of sleep at a time and _not_ be constantly checking the clock, seeing if I can justify spending five more minutes in bed with her before I make myself leave.

I could get plenty of rest if I stayed at my own house, but where's the fun in that?

Besides, on the few nights I haven't stayed with her lately, it takes her a little longer to call me the next day with whatever new crisis is plaguing Mystic Falls. And when I do eventually see her, as soon as Stefan's not looking I get a look that is plainly asking, "Where were you last night?"

I hate that look, but I also kind of love it. It's not supposed to be normal or expected for me to sleep next to her when she's not mine, but apparently it is now. If I let myself be stupidly optimistic, I think she may actually miss me when I'm not there, and I don't know what to think about that.

More and more she's acknowledging what's really between us. I told her I was going to wait for her to really decide because even though she made a choice before she turned, she made it more than clear that she was reconsidering. But after her transition, she was understandably unstable and I promised not to push her.

I didn't. I'm not. I don't think.

She's begun to find her balance, but I'm still waiting.

I don't think she realizes that it's not one choice; it's a hundred little ones that add up to the answer.

It's who she trusts to teach her; relying on my knowledge, patience and understanding that I won't let her do anything she'll regret.

Or who she calls when there's an emergency, like when she buries a knife in her brother's neck in the middle of the night.

And who she'll listen to when she's crazy and trying to kill herself.

She stabbed Stefan. She talked to me.

She chooses to spend her days fighting with him, yelling about trust and lies and how she doesn't have time for his insecure, broody bullshit when what she needs is for him to be strong for her.

She chooses to spend her nights cuddled into my shoulder, finding peace in our secrets behind closed doors and locked windows. Letting herself relax while we're alone and free, listening to the few minutes that we're able to take ticking by in the darkness.

She chooses, over and over and over again but she doesn't see it. I'll have to keep waiting until she does, but at least until then I still get to see her smile in the morning.

It's dark when I approach my house and listen; Stefan's not home. Huh.

I smile to myself and lengthen my steps; I won't have to sneak back in my room through my balcony. I hate doing that, I'm a grown ass man and it makes me feel like some pimply teenager who's been out all night without his parents' permission and _fuck that_. I can go wherever the hell I want, whenever I want.

But if I'm not careful it'll raise suspicions and it'll only take so long before my brother figures it out. He hasn't caught me yet and the only reason I don't let him is because I don't want her yelled at. My whole goal each day is to keep her smiling for as long as possible.

And it is kind of fun, the rush of adrenaline and danger in the few minutes when I don't know what's going to happen when I get home. Sure, if he did ask I could tell him I was at a bar all night, except for the fact I'm not coming home drunk and reeking of smoke. Even his dumb ass will know I'm lying.

I could say I was at some random girl's house getting laid, but he knows that normally I bring the girls home because I like my bed better. That, and because if I killed them I wouldn't have to deal with their neighbors seeing me leave or remembering my car. I don't even do that shit anymore, but I'm not sure he knows or cares.

No doubt Tattle-Tale would waste no time in running off and telling Elena all about my devious acts depending on what he suspects I've been up to. She'll know its bullshit seeing as I spent the night in her bed, but still, I don't necessarily want him reminding her of who I was before she came into my life. Better just to rely on his being the most oblivious vampire ever, and coming in through my balcony.

But today is going to be a good day because I get to go in through the unlocked front door with dignity, and right up to my room to shower.

The alcohol I drowned myself in last night is gone for the most part, but I'm still a little achy. No problem, twenty minutes in blazing water and I'll be good as new. I really shouldn't have drunk so much, but I was celebrating.

Elena damn near pulled off her latest suicide attempt and I was the one that saved her. Hooray for me. And though I had to dig through silt and mud for an hour to find that custom-made ring she tossed away like something from a Cracker Jack box, I did find it and got to put it back on her finger. Top it off with carrying her exhausted little body back to her house so I could wash her up and get her in clean clothes, and it was a pretty successful rescue.

One down, an eternity to go.

Considering that damned curse she just went through, and me showing up drunk, she was actually in a pretty good mood last night. She didn't yell at me for being hammered, which she never fails to do. She just helped me take off my clothes.

This is either a very good sign, or a very bad one.

She didn't bat an eyelash at flirting with me, and she didn't raise a finger when I tested my luck and her patience by feeling her a bit more than I'm supposed to. I know we're not going back there again, not yet, but I just couldn't help it.

I can't help but smile and groan when I think about those little blue-striped shorts she knows I love and just how soft her naked skin was underneath, and I'm completely stupid. My dick is already as hard as rock and I'm sick of masturbating, but that's all I'm gonna get and if I don't take care of this I'm going to be in a lot more pain soon enough.

I take my cock in my hand and stroke it gently because it's crazy sensitive when I think about her, and that's how she touched me. She was sexy as hell wearing my shirt that day, sitting on the edge of the bathtub with her fingers around me and her mouth on my neck.

I can still hear her asking to touch me, telling me it was what she wanted. Elena wanted to feel _me_, explore every inch of my length and make me come for her. She didn't want anything in return except my hand squeezing her thigh, guiding her to the pace that felt best.

It was incredible having her do that. To completely relax in the water with my eyes closed and head back and let myself concentrate on the movements of her tiny fingers and how she teased me with her nails. That girl's hands are fucking magic, and I didn't even realize that before long I was thrusting up into her hand.

I was holding back my release and I don't even know why, maybe so it could last longer. But for all my experience and stamina, she undid me quick. I was practically shaking when she told me to let go, and her encouraging voice was all it took to make me come with a nearly-painful surge.

I moan at the memory and grip myself tighter, quickening my strokes from base to tip until it's too fast and still not enough. I squeeze my swollen head and spill into my palm, heart racing and completely out of breath. Fuck, even thinking about Elena feels better than having sex with other women. And if I have to keep spending time with my hand, at least I have a plethora of memories to pull from.

I wash myself off, more relaxed but not fully sated because there's only one woman that can satisfy me now and I left her house an hour ago.

I wonder how long I have to wait until I get to see her today. Hopefully not too long, and I'm trying not to speculate over what she kept wanting to talk to me about. She knows I don't like to do the heavy shit late at night or early in the morning. She'll call soon enough and we can deal with it then.

I'm a little concerned by the time I'm dressed and downstairs because Stefan's still not home.

He doesn't stroll in through the front door until I'm already done with my first cup of coffee and a side of blood. Where the hell has he been?

He heads straight upstairs, avoiding the parlor where I've been trying not to watch the clock by reading a book but I can smell him and he stinks like sweat. I have no idea what's got him working out so early. Normally he doesn't start before dawn unless he's trying to wean himself off human blood.

Fuck.

I set down my book and go to the basement. I didn't really pay that much attention this morning, but maybe I could have missed something. I open the freezer, but nothing seems out of order. No decimated levels of one type trying to be concealed by another, and there's not a stack of empty bags anywhere that I can see.

I head back upstairs and check the rugs. They're the same as they were yesterday, none recently replaced or stained. I know because when I vacuumed I remember thinking that it's been nice not having to dig the oldest ones out of storage because we've been going through them like crazy.

Whatever, maybe he forgot to buy more hair gel and decided he had to take it out himself by acting like he's training for the Iron Man competition. I don't care what he does, as long as I don't have to smell him.

I pick my book back up but I'm not paying attention as I listen to him getting dressed and shuffling some shit around in his room. It sounds like he's packing. What the hell is going on?

I hear him hit the stairs and I'm already up, determined to get to the bottom of this before I come home to another round of Twister in my living room.

"Where have you been?" I call out as he flies down the staircase and swings around the landing like he's on some sort of mission.

"Oh, you know. Out," he says more than a little snarky and brushing past me with barely a glance.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

Yep, bag on his broody shoulder and he's making a beeline for the door. Fucking great.

"Okay, I see Shady Stefan is back."

That at least gets him to stop and turn around, but he looks like he's ready to start swinging. It's a little early for a brawl, but I can deal with that.

"Please don't tell me that you're still working with Klaus," I say with disdain as he steps towards me.

I'm not really trying to provoke him, but I'm not that fond of that hybrid asshole trying to steal and manipulate my brother. If anyone is gonna fuck with his head, it's gonna be me.

"You obviously haven't heard," he sneers without a smile and a little upward nod of his head for good measure.

I really hate it when he talks to me using his high and mighty voice like he has to explain that grass is green and if it wasn't for him I would think it was purple. Fuck him.

"Elena and I broke up."

He shrugs his non-bag-laden shoulder like he didn't just drop a fucking bomb on me that's right up there with "there's possibly a cure for vampirism" or "I had the chance to save Elena and I chose Matt."

I shouldn't be shocked. I shouldn't. They break up all the fucking time and they were more than due for a blow up; it's been rough in paradise. I even told Elena that he had his reasons for lying to her and they were going to be fine before long, because apparently I'm the moron that tries to save his brother's relationship with the girl that I love.

But this one is…different.

Normally, he cries. He drinks. He broods. He writes in his journal. He sleeps more.

He doesn't work out first thing in the morning, because he no longer cares what he looks like. And he doesn't stare me down with an apathetic face and the scariest mix of anger and deadness in his eyes that I know is the Ripper peeking through.

And what is he talking about, how would I have heard? I know he thinks the world revolves around them, but this couldn't have happened more than an hour ago. Elena was fine when I left her, and she was fine last night; not that he knows I was there.

Shit, unless he saw me leave and that's what split them up.

No, not possible. He'd have hit me by now; this has to be something else.

They've broken up before because of Katherine. They broke up because he left to save my life.

But Katherine's gone and Stefan's here, and everyone's humanity is on and thriving and I don't know what the fuck is going on.

"Oh," I say because that's all I can.

What the hell was that look? Some knowing little eye flare and provoking, hidden smile…

I try to shake it off because something's going on and obviously I'm not getting answers out of him. I'll get it out of Elena when I call her. Fuck, I should probably go check on her.

It'll have to wait. She'd call me if it was bad and I haven't heard from her, and she's got Bonnie and Caroline and Stefan only has me. And I'm great at providing a diversion on demand.

"Got it. Uh, well, I'll try to be quick, then," I say and hope I just pulled that off like my head isn't spinning even though he knows it is. "So apparently, if we want to find the cure, we have to find a vampire hunter that can kill enough vampires to reveal the map on the Hunter's mark. Now, unless we want Jeremy to go all Connor 2.0, I suggest we find a different Hunter."

So that way, when you and Elena decide that your temporary break is over, she won't hold it against you for turning her beloved brother into a killer. Not that I'm sure you care right now based off your Valium-doped attitude, but you will, brother. Trust me.

"Okay," he answers so aloof it's like I just suggested we switch our detergent from Tide to Gain. "And?"

"And I was gonna ask Professor Shane but it turns out he's shadier than you are."

He smiles at my taunt. Not a word. Jesus Christ this is bad.

"Matt Donovan connected him and the Pastor through phone records. Apparently the two were very chatty the day that the Pastor blew up the council."

"Ah, so you're gonna confront Shane, threaten him, possibly kill him, that sort of thing?"

I don't care that he thinks he's insulting me as long as his ass is talking. At least it's some sign of life. And it's not like he isn't right.

"Yeah, unless he tells me what he's up to," I smirk at him. "So what do you say," I ask, lightly hitting his shoulder in the closest thing that he and I ever come to a hug. "Should we tag team this?"

I don't really need his help, but it wouldn't hurt. And I know he could use a distraction, and probably a punching bag. I'm fine being both. It's not the first time, and I'll take a few sore jaws and gut stakes over him on a fifty year Ripper binge any day.

I just got my damn brother back, and I'm not about to lose him because of this. We've wasted enough time being angry.

"Nah," he drawls out. "I'd say you're on your own," he finishes with a sour grin and trying to leave.

"Or we could just blow it off, man," I stop him before he can even take a full step, but he's looking at me like he could rip my arm off for standing in his way. "Go get drunk, brother-bond over some Tri-Delts…"

Still nothing. Fine, I'll say it if I have to.

"If you," I take a breath, because this is so damn uncomfortable but desperate times and measures and all. "You know…want some quality time."

He huffs and chuckles to himself, and I didn't really expect him to take me up on my offer but _what the fuck, man?_ I'm trying to do the right thing here. The least he could do is lose the passive-aggressive act and tell me whatever I did to piss him off so I can _not_ apologize, and then we can go on our merry way without the glares and insanely frustrating amount of confusion.

"Let's not pretend," he says slow and quiet and dripping with menace, "like this isn't the best day of your life."

He can't be serious.

A sick smile and two sarcastic pats on my arm and he's walking away, the front door closing with more finality than I can stand.

You're right Stefan; it was the best day of my life. It should be the best day.

But it's not anymore, brother.

* * *

**A/N:** **Thanks so much for reading, really. And as always please review, every one matters and they are all very appreciated. Can't wait to hear your thoughts, and see you next chapter!**

**-Goldnox**


	3. Near Miss

**A/N: WOW, you guys really are the best! Thanks all so much for the love!**

**Episode point of reference: Elena has some duties to fill helping Caroline set up flowers and such at the Lockwood's, the day before the Miss Mystic Falls pageant, and then we head into non-canon land thanks to the long day of episode blankness until Jeremy has a scary dream that night! (Because of this major time gap in the episode, I had free range to play and play I did. I including many POV swaps btwn Damon and Elena.) Enjoy!**

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

**Near Miss**

I pour the cup of coffee Damon made sure would be ready when I came downstairs and I take a deep sip. It's warm and comforting and perfect. Today is going to be a good day.

I sit at the table with the cup he had set out for me, my feet resting on the chair to my right. I should be upstairs taking a shower and getting dressed, but I'd rather just sit quietly and cradle the black ceramic in my hands, letting the heat soak into my skin. I take another deep pull and relish in the spice of the ground, hints of hazelnut and chocolate peeking through and perfectly complimenting the rich flavor. He always buys the best coffee.

It's so peaceful in the mornings, listening to the clock in the hallway chime in symphony to the rising sun. I stretch back and close my eyes, feeling the golden light fall on my eyelids and turning them a fiery orange. I run my fingertips across the bottom edge of the cup and I smile; the chip is right where it's supposed to be.

The mug stays here now, and I'm not even sure when he brought it. I don't think he gave it to me, but he might have. I'd much rather prefer to think of it as his, just living here, like his clothes that are still in Ric's closet. He still uses it, drinking coffee in the morning when he comes over early and again for blood when he's here at night. But in reality, we share it, and it's always sitting out and waiting for me after he leaves before dawn.

I really want to call him, but I know I shouldn't yet. It's still early, and he has things he needs to do, like hopefully get some sleep. And I have to get to the Lockwood's to help set up for the pageant, but I don't want to go. I don't want to sort flowers and set tables and pretend to fuss and care over things that don't seem to matter like they did.

What matters is making him smile, like he did this morning.

I love that smile. I really think I'm the only one that gets to see him like that, so unguarded and soft. So surprisingly sweet and gentle and the absolute opposite of everything that everyone thinks he is. I get to know the truth.

Damon is a snuggler. Mr. I'm-an-immortal-bad-ass-with-sarcasm-as-sharp-as-m y-fangs likes to cuddle and play with my hair. And he hates sleeping with anything more than a sheet because he gets hot, but he doesn't complain when I pull the comforter up to my chin when I'm curled against his chest. He even lays an extra pillow over my feet after he grumbles that I have ice cubes for toes. Softie.

I finish my coffee and rinse out my cup, washing it carefully by hand before I leave it to dry on the dish rack. Bottom up.

I can tell I'm already late by the time I get to the Lockwood's at 10:45. People are scurrying left and right and Caroline is in a whirl of command, jabbering away on the phone. Awesome.

Maybe if I'm lucky I can get out of here before one and go find Damon.

I try not to listen as I approach her, I've never been one for eavesdropping but vampire hearing makes it incredibly difficult. I can barely contain my groan when I hear Stefan's voice on the other end of her line.

"I'll be fine," I hear him say and I'm kinda thrown by how vulnerable he sounds talking to her.

I should be glad he has someone that he can talk to, especially since Lexi is gone. And I knew he and Caroline were friends, especially since he helped her through her transition and everything. But I guess they're a lot closer than I knew.

It shouldn't still surprise me that Stefan has so many secrets, that's all that boy is. One big ball of secrets. But this one hurts, and for so many reasons.

A big reason is smiling at me like I didn't just walk up and find her comforting my ex-boyfriend.

"Hey," she says and stuffs her phone into her back pocket before crossing her arms and giving me a look of disapproval. "Something you want to share?"

I thought Caroline was supposed to be _my_ friend? Isn't she supposed to be telling me that I made the right choice by following what I want? She's always the one who says not to settle for anything less, and that if you want it, you fight for it.

But I guess that's only as long as what I want is what Caroline approves of me having, and that is most certainly_ not_ Damon.

I blow out a breath and try to remember, I just have to make it until 1:00 and then I'm free.

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

I step onto Elena's porch and take a breath. I don't know what I'm going to find inside.

Probably crying, and I hate it when she cries.

I waited as long as I could before I came over, I wanted to give her a chance to pull herself together and see if she would call. But she hasn't. It's a quarter past eleven, and not a peep.

It's a bad sign, but it's fine. I don't want to do this over the phone, and I'm sure she doesn't either. That's why I didn't call her.

I turn the doorknob to head inside, but it's locked. Huh.

I really need a damn key.

Whatever, I guess window it is.

I walk around to the tree that I know as well as my own front door and listen.

Silence.

Jeremy should be up by now, but I don't hear the sounds of video games from the living room or muffled angsty-screaming coming from his headphones. That doesn't concern me as much; he doesn't usually hang around the house for too long. Usually he goes over to Matt's or to wander around doing whatever it is he can to stir up trouble. But he doesn't lock the front door on his way out. Ever.

Maybe she got up and locked it behind him, which is weird.

Unless she wants to be alone, and that's what she's trying to tell me.

I glance up at her window. It's open.

Okay…

I land inside her room and find my answer. She's not here.

Her bed is made, her teddy bear on _my_ side of her bed instead of the middle. I smirk and give my middle finger to the beady-eyed fluff ball because that fucker's been demoted to the chair when I'm here.

Her daily regimens of her hairbrush and mascara and lip gloss are on her vanity, but all in a slightly different spot than they were when I left. At least she's not huddled up in bed, drowning her sorrows over my brother in a pint of Ben and Jerry's.

I check her bathroom just to be safe, and everything is normal. Her pajamas are on the top of an overflowing hamper and a damp towel is hanging up. No sign of humanity-free Elena dancing in the shower and asking me to kill her brother. So far, so good.

I gather her clothes and head downstairs because that shit drives me crazy and that towel is going to get moldy if I don't wash it. I quickly sort it and start a load, double checking the dryer because sure as shit Jeremy never pulls his clothes out when he's done. That's why he's always wearing more wrinkles than not. And it doesn't matter how many times I tell him this, all I ever get is some derisive comment about me being Martha Stewart. Real original, kid. Hilarious.

I start the dryer with a sigh and head into the kitchen. I realize I'm smiling when I see the cup on the counter, clean and dry and upside down so the imperfection we both like is greeting me.

So many secrets.

It's more than comforting that she's up and around, still drinking coffee and probably off with her friends. She could be crying on their shoulders, but somehow I doubt it. If she was falling apart she would do it here.

My steps are a little lighter as I go and collapse on the couch, scrubbing my hand over my face and through my hair while I yawn. I'm fucking exhausted.

I reach over to the side table and pick up the book I brought over a couple days ago, but I don't even open the cover before I toss it back to its resting place. I don't feel like reading. And watching TV without anyone here to annoy by making jokes over the dialogue is just boring. Screw it, I can probably get about an hour of sleep before she gets back, maybe more, and I could use it.

I stretch out on my back, my head propped against a pillow but my feet on the floor because I'm too tired to take off my boots and I'm not going to put them on her furniture.

I close my eyes with another yawn, and the clock in the hallway chimes once, telling me that it's half past eleven.

She should be home soon.

It feels like I just shut my eyes when they're open again, wrenched apart by another ring from the grandfather clock that I now hate. I pull my phone from my pocket and check the time. It's 1:30.

I figured she would be back by now, but it's fine. I make myself sit up and roll my shoulders and my neck, my muscles stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position. Probably better I get up anyways before I sleep away the day.

Fuck. The laundry.

"I'm too old for this shit," I grumble as I pull Jeremy's clothes out of the dryer and throw them into a basket. They're just going to get wrinkled again, but I don't care. Boy needs to learn the value of an iron anyways and I'm not his fucking maid.

I move Elena's clothes over and shake my head. Apparently, I'm his sister's.

That's it; I'm going to the Grill to get drunk and wait for Elena there before someone revokes my man card.

I have half a mind to kick the basket of Jeremy's clothes on my way past it, but I don't. I'd probably just break the damn thing and have to get another. Buying laundry baskets? Yeah, talk about bad ass.

Instead, I damn near rip her front door off the hinges because I forgot it was locked because, _really?_ Why lock the damn thing when _one_, you're a vampire and _two_, your damn window is always open?

I swing it shut behind me and wonder how pissed she would be if I just took the locks out altogether.

May be worth it.

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

I collapse on my bed in a huff, completely drained.

Caroline didn't let me leave well until after two o'clock, and that was only after enduring endless rounds of "Stefan's so great and Damon's an ass."

Yep, just peachy.

I pull the pillow out from behind my teddy bear and wrap my arms around it, hugging it as close as I can and burying my face in the pillow case. It smells so good, spicy and sweet and I'm instantly more relaxed.

I kick off my shoes and let them fall to the floor, pulling my knees up closer to my chest and losing myself in his lingering scent. He hasn't called me, but I haven't called him yet either. Caroline was on me every second at the Lockwood's and I still need to figure out what I'm going to say before I talk to him.

I close my eyes and nuzzle the pillow, running through a mental list of each of his smiles as the tension bleeds out from my body and into the bed.

I wonder which one I'll get when I tell him.

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

Lisa or Laura or LeAnn or whatever her name is pours me another glass with a side of pity from her judgy little eyes that are too close together. I glare at her, and she sighs and leaves the bottle.

"Thank you," I slur with as much sarcasm as possible. She should know that after the three previous ones, the fourth shouldn't be a question. More like the really fucking obvious answer.

My patience lasted all the way to half of bottle number two.

Now I'm pissed.

Still no word from the Magnet of Doom, and brother dearest won't answer his phone.

Yeah, I can fucking add.

I shoot the glass and grab the bottle, heading for the door because it's time to up the crazy factor for my day.

I step outside, the door of the Grill slamming shut behind me. The sun stings my eyes even though it's almost down. Must be almost seven.

Which means their epic breakup lasted all of about nine hours by my count.

Fucking figures.

I drink my way through the first quarter of the burning liquid by the time I stumble all the way to the cemetery.

"Evening, Ric," I drawl as I take my seat on his headstone. "Drink? Oh, that's right," I deadpan. "You're dead."

Yep, way to up the crazy. Talk to your imaginary friend. You really showed her.

"More for me," I laugh and take another swig.

Score.

"You know, you suck as a conversationalist. Some friend you are."

I take another drink and survey the bottle. Why didn't I grab two? I fucking know better.

"At least you can't hog all the damn whiskey, like you always do."

I take a smaller sip and try to slow down, make it last.

"You know buddy, I think you may have had a drinking problem," I slur. "Not that I blame you. Your life fucking sucked, man. And I don't really see you twelve stepping your way into a white picket fence with a two car garage, sans crossbow."

All of a sudden I can't get the image of Ric out of my mind wearing Daisy-Duke cut off jean shorts and a tank top, accessorized with an overlarge straw sunhat (with bow), gardening apron and pink gloves while he kneels over a patch of dirt and explains to me that he's "fertilizing." And the only thing keeping me from throwing up is my harsh laughter.

"Although you almost did," I amend once I catch my breath and take a drink.

This very well may be why I liked you so much. 'Cause you got screwed almost as bad as I did, and you almost made it out.

"To near misses," I toast with a long pull.

But you didn't. Your salvation was murdered then you went psycho, tried to pull off mass genocide and died in a storage building. Poetic, really.

"Fucking women. You know, why _can't_ women be more like men?"

Elena's been on a My Fair Lady kick, and as much as I hate musicals and have threatened to destroy her copy of that movie more than once, I gotta admit, that song cracks my ass up because it's so damn true.

When a man makes a decision, with the exception of my brother, he sticks to it. Ric decided to look for his wife after she bailed, then chose to stop. And when she did blow through town did he turn around and crawl back to her? No. Stood his fucking ground, that's what he did.

"And here's to men." I take a deep drink in salute.

Hell, I waited 145 years for Katherine. I stuck to my decision to save her no matter what I had to do or how long it took. And when the bitch fucked me over I swore I was done. And I am. I've had plenty of chances with the She-Devil since then, and I've said no every single time.

But Elena changes her mind about what she wants for breakfast before she's even shut the refrigerator door. Girl can't make a decision if her life depends on it. Or when my life depends on it.

I don't know why the hell I ever thought she'd make one that would stick when it comes to our permanently-on-a-waiting-list joke of a relationship.

"How did you stop, Ric?" I ask quietly. "I mean, at least I found Katherine, sort of. But you, you just cut your losses when enough was enough. Takes balls, man," I say and take another drink, considering. "But when is enough, enough? I don't know if I even have that fucking option."

Which is so damn unfair because I'm sick of waiting, but I can't seem to stop.

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

The front door slams and my eyes pop open. It's dark outside my window.

Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap!

I sit up in a blind panic; I can't believe I fell asleep.

Stupid stupid stupid.

I try to scoot off the bed but my leg is asleep, tingling to the point that it's almost painful. I grab my hairbrush and lip gloss off the vanity, wobbling into my bathroom as I pull out my phone. No missed calls, no text messages. Crap.

I throw everything on the counter by the sink, brushing my teeth as quickly as possible and throwing my hair up in a mess of a ponytail. I'm just finishing it when Jeremy pokes his head in.

"Hey," he says with a jut of his chin. "What's with you?"

"I just…I fell asleep and I have to go," I ramble off and dart back into my bedroom. He follows behind me as I struggle into my shoes, having to take the left one off and untie the laces before I can get it back on.

"Have you seen Damon?" I ask without looking at him, trying to remember where I left my keys.

"No."

They're not on my vanity or my nightstand, and they're not in my pocket. Maybe they're downstairs.

"Okay, well I'll be home later. Order pizza if you want."

Screw the keys, I'll just run.

Jeremy only follows me as far as his room, locking his door as I fly down the stairs and out the front door.

He has to be at the Grill. He's always there, especially when he's mad at me.

I burst through the front door of the restaurant and search the bar, praying that I'll see the back of his jacket and a second amber-filled glass in front of the empty chair beside him.

Nothing.

I head towards his favorite stool and scan the booths and tables, but I already know he's not here.

"Damn it," I mutter as I take the seat he should be in, stretching my arms out in front of me and laying my head down in defeat.

"You want a drink, honey?"

"No," I grumble into my arms, then change my mind. "Yeah," I sigh as I sit up.

"What'll it be?" the blonde bartender asks, leaning forward on her forearms like we're friends or something.

"Bourbon," I tell her. "Neat."

She cocks her head at me and raises an eyebrow, and I wait to see if I'll have to compel her, but thankfully I don't. She just shrugs and grabs a bottle and glass from behind the bar.

"Who're you looking for?" she asks as I wince and swallow. I don't know how he drinks this stuff all the time. She waits, but I take another drink and don't answer her.

"Let me guess. Black hair, leather jacket, looks like some sort of model. Glasses of bourbon that turn into bottles and a second glass for the empty seat right next to where you're at?"

"You've seen him?" I ask a little too enthusiastically and her answering "yes" is so dazed I think I accidently compelled her.

"When was he here?" I ask more gently and she smiles sweetly at me again.

"Earlier. Left a little over an hour ago. _With_ the bottle," she says knowingly and I wince and take another burning sip. It almost feels good.

"He didn't happen to say…" I shrug but I know it's a lost cause. He wouldn't tell her where he was going.

"Nah honey, just left. But if I were you, I'd give him a chance to sleep it off."

"How many?"

"Bottles?" she asks and I nod. "Four," she mouths and wiggles the same number of fingers at me for dramatic effect.

I try to remember that to a human this would equal something between comatose and death, which is why this sweet girl is trying to ward me off him. But vampires metabolize alcohol about twenty times faster and Damon's tolerance is staggeringly high.

"Thanks," I smile and shoot the rest of the glass, coughing when it singes its way down my throat. "What do I owe you? Um…"

"Leila. On the house," she smiles back, taking my glass. "Word of advice?"

I don't say anything, but wave the back of my hand at her in a "bring it on" that I know she recognizes.

"It's always the pretty ones who have issues," she says seriously and I can barely contain my laughter.

"Don't I know it," I say with a roll of my eyes and leave the stool behind.

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

I'm seriously contemplating robbing a liquor store and spending the night in the cemetery when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

About fucking time.

The bitch of it is, I don't even want to check it.

I don't need to see Stefan telling me how he got his girl back.

I don't want to hear her excuses.

But I'm stupid and I look anyways.

And goodie! Because it's fucking _Caroline_. And some 911 bullshit about Shane showing up at the pageant tomorrow.

I'd rather burn my wardrobe than deal with her right now, but I call her anyways.

"What do you mean he's going to be at the pageant tomorrow?" I ask as soon as she answers.

"What do you think I mean? He showed up at the prep today and told me and Elena that he's supposed to be a judge. Which is super creepy if you ask me. Especially since he's supposed to be helping Bonnie with her magic, who totally bailed on us today..."

So that's where she was.

"You sure he's gonna be there tomorrow?" I ask cutting off whatever profound brilliance she thinks is rolling off her tongue because I don't fucking care and stopped paying attention at "Elena."

"Are you drunk or something? He's a judge, he _has _to be there. Or I'm going to kick his ass myself," she says in the haughty little voice she's adopted since her transition.

I take a drink because I'm about to do something really, really dumb.

"Elena with you?"

"No," she sneers at me. "Leave her alone, Damon."

"What the hell did I do?" I ask innocently, getting up and leaving the bottle on Alaric's headstone.

"You know what you did," she hisses at me. "Stefan is seconds away from a Ripper binge and this is all your fault."

Huh. So _not_ back together, then.

And Caroline thinks every single bad thing to happen, ever, is my doing. I'm fine blowing that one off.

"You realize as how it was _my_ blood that made you, I have the authority to un-make you, right?"

"Screw you!" she practically shrieks in a voice that has got to be deadly for her dog of a boyfriend.

"No thanks," I whisper and she actually growls in outrage before hanging up on me.

Night is already looking up.

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

The air feels cool and soft when I step outside of the Grill, almost soothing.

I take a deep breath and try to figure out where to go next.

Got it.

I cross the street and walk the path I've made a hundred times, sidestepping familiar cracks in the concrete and ducking under low branches. I'm there in almost record time.

I stop when I come into the wooded clearing, but the only thing waiting for me is a nearly empty bottle on Alaric's grave.

I'm too late. Again.

"Hey Mom, hey Dad," I say as I walk further into the cemetery, kissing the tips of my fingers and laying them on each headstone.

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

Elena's front door is unlocked when I get there a few minutes later. But she's not in the kitchen, on the couch, or in her room.

Damn it.

But Jeremy's here.

"Where's your sister?" I ask, leaning up against the doorframe to his room.

He pauses whatever game he's playing on his computer to further melt his brain and flips me the bird.

I roll my eyes at him, and before he can take a breath I have him in a headlock. Not tight enough to hurt him, but he knows I could.

"Kids these days, no manners at all," I say nonchalantly and he struggles harder. I let him squirm for another minute before I let him go.

"Dick," he chokes out, rubbing his throat. Give me a break, it couldn't have hurt that bad.

"Where'd she go?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know? She ran out of here an hour ago, I thought she was with you."

"Lose the attitude," I tell him with a light slap to the back of his head. "She didn't say where she was going?"

"What am I? My sister's keeper?"

"You do realize she gets kidnapped every other day, right?"

"I don't know where she is," he glares at me. "She was freaking out about oversleeping or something when I got home, and then she left."

"See? Now was that so hard?" I sneer at him and turn on my heel, shutting his door behind me before I head into Elena's room.

I pull out my phone to check the time and call her, but not a full three seconds after I push "call" I hear a vibration in the bathroom. I go to check, and sure enough she left her phone on the counter.

Great. I guess I'm waiting.

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

"I love you, and I'll talk you soon," I tell my parents before I rise from the bench.

There's only one place left to go, and I really hope he's there.

After I got here and saw that I had missed him, I didn't want to wait anymore to call. But apparently I don't have my phone because I must have left it at the house like a friggin genius. I have half a mind to go back to my house and get it, but as long as he's at home then I won't need it.

And I know we need to have this conversation face to face; there are just some things you shouldn't say over the phone. I already learned that lesson the hard way. But that time we thought he was going to die in the next hour and I was too far and…

No, I shake my head at myself. There's no excuse.

I kick an innocent rock that's in my path; I just wish he would've let me tell him this morning. This whole damn day could've been so much different. So much better. But now I'm chasing down what's sure to be a confused and angry vampire who is no doubt doing his best to get drunk beyond reason.

I don't remember the last time we've gone this long without a call, a text, _something._ And he has to know by now. There's no way Stefan didn't tell him if even Caroline knows.

But I wanted to tell him.

I wanted to tell him the truth of why, not whatever version of it Stefan thinks is the reason. There's too much that Stefan doesn't know, doesn't understand, in order to explain what happened. And yes, they are brothers and he has every right to share that he just broke up with his girlfriend, but it's not his place to tell Damon that it was because I love him.

I clear the tree line from the woods and approach the back of the house. It's quiet, just like the night of the memorial. I easily make the leap up to his balcony and his door is closed, but unlocked. I don't know why he never locks his doors.

I slip in silently, but his room is vacant. His bed is made and everything is in perfect order, but that doesn't surprise me. I listen harder to make absolutely sure the house is empty, waiting a solid three minutes to the sound of humming and creaking hollowness before I venture out.

He's not in the parlor, the study, the kitchen or the basement. He's not anywhere and hasn't been for a while.

Damn it.

I head back up to his room and I don't know what to do.

I don't even know what to think. I've been so focused on finding him that I haven't even considered until now that he may not want to be found.

Maybe he doesn't care what this all means.

I know I've pushed him, tested his patience over and over. I don't deserve the understanding he's showed me, but he promised he would wait.

My chest tightens and throat closes. I may be too late.

I sit down outside on his balcony, leaning against the railing and my legs stretched out in front of me.

I look for the constellations I used to know, but I really did forget them all.

It doesn't matter. I'll look for new ones while I wait for him.

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

I take my seat on her windowsill, legs out and ankles crossed and determined to look out the window and not at the clock. But it doesn't keep me from checking.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

I hear Jeremy wake up gasping a little after twelve, but he goes back to sleep.

One.

Where the fuck is she?

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

The grandfather clock in the living room below me strikes twice, loud and clear and echoing through the vastly empty house.

Every single chime since I've arrived is nothing more than a mocking laugh, and it hurts.

I make myself stand and my muscles ache from being still for so long. I kept the balcony door slightly open while I sat outside, that way when he came home, he would know I was here.

But he's not here, and he's not coming.

I take a resigned breath and blink back the tears I want to cry, closing the door as gently as I can. I take extra care when turning the antique doorknob, hearing it latch with an irrevocable click that threatens to absolutely shatter me.

I'm going home.

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

Fuck. This.

She's not coming home, and I bet I know why.

I could take three guesses, but I probably only need one.

It's three after two, and I'm not waiting anymore.

I slam the front door behind me on my way out, and I probably woke Jeremy up but I don't give a fuck.

I'm going home.

* * *

**A/N: Okay guys, I know that was...angsty. But, BUT, now we get to go to the _actual_ pageant where the good times roll and we're gonna have a blast! So thanks for reading, please review and follow because we've got some road ahead of us!**

**-Goldnox**


	4. The Time of Now

**A/N: Happy Easter darlings! And in celebration of the holiday we have the next chapter. Hope you enjoy, best readers EVER!**

**Episode point of reference: WE MADE IT TO THE PAGEANT! HOORAY! Okay, so we start in a little non-canon before Caroline and Elena help April get all purty, and someone shows up and sends the girls for a loop. (Behold, the power of a black tuxedo. Whoop whoop!)**

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

**The Time of Now**

I watch from my pillow as the glowing numbers on my alarm clock realign, signifying the start of a new hour.

My hand is instantly on the buzzer, turning off the auto-tuned singing from the radio the moment it begins to seep through.

Time to get up.

I head downstairs with determination, doing my best not to think about how empty and cold my bed was and how I know there won't be coffee ready for me. I'll have to do it myself.

But maybe that's a good thing. It's time I stopped relying on him trying to make everything easier for me.

Now is the time to be strong.

I make the pot and pour my cup, sitting in the same spot as yesterday. But when I take a sip the flavor is off. I made it too strong, too many grounds and not enough water. I get up and add a splash more of my creamer to balance it, and it's better, but still not perfect. It's fine though, and more than drinkable. I'd rather have too much potency than not enough.

The front door opens and closes gently, and I hold my breath. It always takes me a moment to focus and gain control when I smell my first human of the day.

"Morning," Matt smiles at me as he strolls into the kitchen, hooking his suit over the back of a kitchen chair.

"You're here early," I smile back and take my seat at the table. "Coffee's hot. Be warned, it's strong."

"Thanks," he says and goes to pour his own cup before sitting across from me, taking a sip with a grimace.

"Sorry," I laugh.

"So, how're you doing?"

"You heard," I tell him without pretense and he nods.

"Caroline," he smirks.

"Caroline," I say after him but mine sounds more like a curse than his did.

"You holding up okay?"

"I'm fine, really," I say with another sip.

"Okay. You know, 'cause if you weren't, that would be fine too."

"I appreciate that, but this was mutual. And it was time."

He raises an eyebrow at me while leaning forward on his arms, his face and hands a little closer to me.

"Elena, no break-up is ever really 'mutual'."

Crap.

"Matt…" I sigh and lay my hand on his arm, but he waves me off with his other.

"It's fine, Elena, really. You're just taking this pretty well, considering."

"Would you rather I be crying my eyes out while watching sappy movies and eating everything in sight?" I tease.

"Maybe," he sighs, his eyes suddenly darting all over the room and landing everywhere but on me. "Yeah."

I narrow my eyes at him. "What did Caroline tell you?"

He half smiles out of the corner of his mouth. Oh, this ought to be good.

"That I needed to convince you that you were making a mistake."

I don't even hide my disgusted huff, shaking my head in growing fury with my "friend".

"You know," I snap, "she has no right to say anything after-"

"Easy killer," he cuts me off with an amused grin. "I didn't say I was going to do it, that's just what she told me. So exactly what 'mistake' are you making?"

I give him a pointed look and he knows.

"Ah," he nods, leaning back in his chair and sucking air through his teeth. "That would explain it."

"Matt," I say quietly, "do you think I'm making a mistake?"

"It doesn't really matter what I think, Elena," he tells me gently.

"It matters to me."

He nods slowly and gives me a soft smile, the one I've known all my life.

"I think Damon loves you. And I think you love him, but you're just afraid to admit it because of everything he's done. Which has been a lot," he says, arching an eyebrow in a show of memories. "And I think you're worried that if you are with him, you'd be hurting all of us _because_ of those things."

He doesn't say it, but I know he's talking about Vicki.

I take another drink from my mug, allowing him time to find his words.

"In truth, the guy's a dick, Elena. He's a vampire, and he kills people. But, he saves people too," he says honestly and with a hint of respect, fidgeting absent-mindedly with his cup. "He freed Caroline and Tyler rather than letting them get sacrificed in the ritual. And when Tyler started to turn and tried to attack them, Damon leapt in front of her. He protected Caroline."

I'm completely speechless.

I've never been able to get all the details of exactly how Tyler bit him, only that he did it while transitioning. But hearing that he put himself in the path of a werewolf because he was trying to save Caroline…

"And he could have killed me that night for pulling a rifle on him loaded with wooden bullets, but instead he just knocked me out."

"He _what_?"

"It's fine, Elena, I kinda deserved it at the time."

"Matt, I'm sorry…"

"How many times has he saved you?" he asks me seriously.

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

"Exactly. And how many times has he saved Stefan?"

I still don't answer, because there's no way to count, no way to actually know because for all I've seen him do, there's probably been thousands of maneuvers he's made to protect us that went undetected.

"He takes care of the people he loves, which is a very short list of people, but it still says a lot about the guy. And, to be honest, it kind of makes sense now that you would be drawn to him."

"Oh yeah? And why is that?"

I'm really curious to hear Matt's reasoning, especially considering our similar conversation the night he drugged me.

"Because you're fun," he smiles. "And don't get me wrong, Stefan's a good guy, but he's really serious all the time."

"Yeah," I laugh. "He is."

"And Damon's kind of funny; he knows how to have a good time," he admits, then cocks his head and studies me. "He makes you smile."

"He's sweet too," I blush. "He just doesn't let anybody else see it."

"I'll have to take your word on that one," he says with a roll of his eyes.

"Thanks, Matt," I say with all the warmth I can, because I really needed just one person to have my back.

"Just…know what you're doing, okay?"

"Okay," I smile.

He nods in agreement and begins rolling up his sleeve.

"Breakfast?" he teases with a large grin and extending his arm out to me, wrist up. "I was gonna bring muffins, but then I changed my mind."

I wrap his hand in both of mine, holding it for just a moment in gratitude before I bring his wrist up to my mouth.

"Don't let Jeremy hear you say that," I say with a wink and sink my teeth into his vein.

* * *

"Okay," Caroline declares proudly, securing the second hair clip and stepping back to admire her work. "Hair done, make up done. Now, which dress are you wearing?"

"I'm not sure," April says, sounding nervous and getting up to grab two gowns from where they were hooked on to the dresser.

Caroline throws me a look and comes to stand beside me, leaning back against the cluttered desk and more than ready to freely spout her opinion.

We've been pretty civil all morning, making sure all the preparations were in order and thankfully avoiding the subject of my relationship status. But I haven't missed the pouty glances she's been giving me when she thinks I'm not looking. She's just biding her time, and we both know it.

April stands in front of us, holding up a red dress with a ruched bodice and sweetheart neckline, then a blue draped one-shoulder gown.

I already know what Caroline is going to tell her. She thinks any woman wearing a red strapless gown is just asking to be compared to Vivian from Pretty Woman, and that they're completely stupid for doing it because according to her _no one_ compares to Julia Roberts.

I don't agree, but I don't want to argue with Caroline. And I know April will feel better about her choice if we both tell her the same thing.

"Blue," Caroline and I say together.

"Really?" April says, looking disappointed. "The blue seems a little safe."

Caroline looks at me and brushes her hair back from her face with both hands, which is a bad sign. She doesn't touch her hair unless she's irritated or nervous because then it gets oily that much faster. But when she's frustrated, she forgets.

"Safe is good, when it comes to the judges," I say and hope that was convincing.

"She's right," Caroline says, regaining her composure. "Gracie Lockwood had a three foot slit her year and practically got laughed off the court."

I can't help but laugh with them, but for a completely different reason because as I recall, _someone_ wore a green dress last year with a slit straight up the front of her gown.

"She got my vote."

Oh my God.

What is he doing here? I didn't think in a million years he would be here.

I jump up off the desk with what I hope is a graceful move, nervously adjusting the hem of my dress before I even know what I'm doing.

I can't breathe. Literally, cannot breathe. All the air just evaporated out of my chest and my heart is squeezing and my stomach just flipped and I think all the blood just simultaneously bled from my face and surged through me because I know I've got to be blushing like crazy.

God, he looks good in a suit.

"Get out, lurker," Caroline says, throwing at him whatever it was she had in her hand.

"Ouch," he says sarcastically, but the word still comes out of his mouth so caressed and thick it's like he's kissing it.

I feel heat flare under my skin and between my legs, and I immediately lean against the desk and lock my knees together. I tilt my hips back so they're as far away from vampire senses as I can possibly get them, hopefully before I'm busted for getting so turned on at him saying a single word.

How does he freaking do that?

Caroline storms towards him, completely oblivious to my predicament, but I know he caught it from the look he's giving me over her shoulder.

"Where's Professor Shane?"

"Check the judge's table," she tells him sourly with her hand on the door, ready to slam it in his face.

I turn around as I hear the door swing, beginning to adjust my bra because my nipples are hard and they're mere seconds from peeking out over the lace cups that are doing nothing to help keep my reaction to him under wraps.

I wait to hear the door latch, but it doesn't. Instead, I catch the sound of his hand hitting the wood at the absolute last moment, refusing to allow it to close.

I turn back around, sure that I look guilty as sin while Caroline stomps back towards me and he lightly nudges the door back open with a look of triumph. I figured she would come to stand next to me again, but instead she stops in the middle of the room, splitting the distance between us like some over-protective mother.

Really? Does she think I'm just going to rip his clothes off right here?

I mean, I totally would, but I'm not going to.

I think.

"Red one, definitely," he tells April and I can tell she's convinced, her thoughts of wanting to impress my brother already miles away just from the little attention he's giving her.

"We've already agreed that the red one's a little bit too showy," Caroline says with arms crossed and nose high and me still fidgeting all over the place because I can't seem to keep still.

"It's a pageant. That's the whole point."

"Did you win Miss Mystic last year?" she turns to him, hands firmly on her hips. "No. I don't think you did."

I don't even have to see her face to know the smirk she's giving him is nothing short of brutal.

"Neither did Elena," he says and turns to April. "And she wore blue."

My heart squeezes and melts into my stomach. He really remembers the _color_ of my dress?

"Nobody cares what you think," Caroline mutters.

I do.

"I care," April shrugs and Caroline looks like she wants to scream.

"See? April cares," he says and then he's looking straight at me and I don't even know what we're talking about anymore. "Red. Right, Elena?"

Huh?

I see a blonde and gold movement out of the corner of my vision but I can't focus on anything else but his eyes. And lips.

He said something about red.

The dress, I remember.

I turn and look at April.

No one else is going to be wearing a red gown, but there's a huge chance of someone else wearing blue. And the shape and neckline would complement her really well.

"The red is pretty," I agree and he smiles.

God, _I love it_ when he smiles like that.

"And my work here is done," he smirks and then he's turning and walking down the hallway and I'm still completely frozen from gawking at him.

I think Caroline is saying something but all I can hear are his footsteps getting further away from me. I wasn't planning to go see him until after the pageant, but somehow he's here and I don't want to waste the opportunity to talk to him. Not after yesterday.

"What happened to 'safe is good'?"

I snap back into where I am, and she's fuming in annoyance and confusion.

This is ridiculous. I understand she feels betrayed because I agreed with Damon, but it's just a dress and I'm not going to get into this with her now. I need to go find him before he disappears.

"Whichever one _you_ want to wear, April," I tell her and I can't get out of the room fast enough because he's already on the stairs.

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

God, she looks incredible.

What the hell is my brother thinking letting her go?

When I got home last night I was convinced I would hear her in Stefan's room. But she wasn't there, and neither was he. And when he finally did come home this morning, he was alone.

He went right up and showered, and afterwards proceeded to break half the shit in his room. That's when I knew. It's not the first time he's done it, and he has plenty more crap to keep him company, pack rat that he is. But still, it sucks to hear him destroying the few things he has left.

Whatever's been going on, wherever they've been, they certainly aren't back together.

I continue down the stairs, doing my best to ignore the irritating sound of Caroline's voice as she questions Elena on changing her mind about the dress.

I can't help but smile to myself. I don't know what's gotten into her today.

She hasn't acted that nervous or fidgety since we first met, the second time. It's not uncommon for her to get a little flustered around me, especially when I'm pushing her buttons, but I wasn't really attempting to get a reaction out of her. And I can't deny that it's nothing short of adorable that she gets so worked up when I'm not even trying. That after all that's happened between us, she's not used to me yet.

She practically had a heart attack when she saw me. Pulse through the roof, couldn't take a breath, blushing beautifully from head to toe. And she can lock her legs together all she wants, it doesn't hide a damn thing.

_That dress_, I think and swallow a groan. She looks amazing in black lace, most certainly when it's hugging the curves I love; expertly highlighting her neck and collarbone, draped over her delicate shoulders. And the length is just plain cruel, stopping halfway up her thighs so all of her long, silky legs are exposed and I have _got_ to stop thinking about this or I'm gonna have a serious problem.

I just hit the landing when I hear quick footsteps behind me, catching a hint of the most delicious mixture of citrus and spice.

"Damon…"

I stop and turn, completely struck at her pausing on the stairs and looking like a fantasy in rich and vivid color.

"Still here," I try to smirk, but it feels awkward and strained.

She takes a deep breath and she's actually shaking, struggling to find her voice.

I don't know what she's about to tell me, but I have this feeling that whatever it is, it's something I'll be sure to remember.

"We need to talk."

Yeah, I know we do. But that's not the thing you're having trouble saying.

I give her a second to see if she'll continue, but she's stuck. Looks like I'm gonna have to say it for her.

"Stefan told me about the break up," I admit and that at least gets her moving. She takes one slow step towards me, gradually followed by another until we're face to face. "I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not."

She already knows that though, understanding me well enough not to expect apologies for things she knows I'm not sorry for.

I'm glad to see that my words don't seem to surprise her; it would probably bother her if I did apologize. She would know it was a lie, and I always tell her the truth.

"What did he say?" she asks as we take a few steps and leave the bannister behind.

She's staring at the floor, probably moments from biting her lip as she tries to tuck her hair behind her ear in a move I recognize as a nervous habit. But her hair is pulled back and exquisitely braided, and she's so distracted she doesn't realize there's nothing loose where her fingertips are brushing.

It's actually starting to make me edgy that she's so damn uncomfortable. It's one thing for her to be like this when I know the reason why, but there's something about this that's very, very different.

"Oh, you know Stefan," I stop and turn around to face her. "Guy just went on and on about it, wouldn't shut up."

A huff of breath and she shifts her weight, we must be getting closer to whatever has her so damn tense.

"So, he didn't tell you why?"

"Nope. But I'm sure it has something to do with you acting weird, so why don't you tell me?"

She lets her eyes lock onto mine, and there's a hundred things racing behind them. Secrets and memories and buried truths, steady flashes of all the things I only ever see when we're alone behind closed doors.

"You."

Me.

She's actually telling me that _I'm_ the reason they're over?

I search her very carefully, looking for traces of blame or frustration or anger or resentment or _anything else_ than what I think I'm seeing.

But none of its there.

Just something that looks a little like fear, and a lot like love.

I smile and release a breath I didn't know I was holding as I feel her take my hand in one of hers. Her thumb sweetly brushes over my knuckles, and this can't possibly be real.

She's ready.

"Damon Salvatore..."

She startles and looks away towards the voice I barely heard, but she doesn't let go. I follow her gaze and don't even try to contain my wince. Why does this always happen to us?

"Looks like we're traveling the same circuit."

I squeeze her hand once before I release her, desperate to make sure that she understands I'm doing it for her protection. I don't trust this guy to be anywhere near her, and I can't afford for him to know just how precious she is to me.

"Professor Shane," I say with a grimace. "Just the guy I wanted to see."

I look back to Elena and I'm so thankful that she seems to know what I'm doing, but it doesn't hide her disappointment at the interruption.

I wish I had more time; I need to tell her so many things.

I want to promise her we'll talk, to kiss her and take her home and never let her leave.

But I can't do any of that, I have to go deal with this manipulative prick just to get him away from my girl.

I sigh and try to tell her I'm sorry with a soft touch to her hand, regretfully making my way towards him and noting the time on the clock I pass so I'll remember it.

I check back over my shoulder as I begin to turn a corner, and she's still there, exactly where I left her. She's patiently watching me and I can't believe that I could ever get this lucky, to be the one she's waiting for.

I'm blessed with one small smile from her and everything shifts.

We've finally made it to the now.

* * *

**A/N: I know I say this all the time, but you guys really are amazing. Can't thank you enough for all the reviews, favs and follows y'all are blessing me with. Truly amazing. See you next chapter, where the pageant fun continues!**

**-Goldnox**


	5. Waltz With Frenemies

**A/N: Hello, dearest readers! Little bit of a delay on this one, sorry about that. As always, thanks so much to all for all the love and support. Your kindness amazes me! **

**Episode point of reference: Damon and Elena just shared the best "you" scene in the history of all "you's", and Damon ran off with Professor Shane to go play Master Interrogator, leaving Elena to wander in non-canon land. Yayz! Enjoy!**

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

**Waltz With Frenemies**

One word.

I had so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to tell him.

And it all came down to one simple word.

I really hope it was enough.

I think it was though, because the smile he gave me was one I've never seen before. That sense of relief, of unguarded happiness at his instant understanding that lasted only a moment before we were cruelly interrupted.

It was too short, like everything always is. We can't ever seem to get enough time, but hopefully that's over now.

I realize I'm still standing in the same place I was when he left with Shane, waiting and watching like the infatuated girl I am. I need to move. I shouldn't be staring at an empty hallway and a clock and a corner where he vanished behind, hoping any second he'll reappear.

Thirty more seconds and then I'll go. I know he's going to keep Shane occupied and away from me for as long as possible, and I should really be getting outside to help. But I still can't resist hoping that any moment he'll be miraculously in front of me again.

I shake my head at myself. I'm being so ridiculous. I'll see him in a few minutes and it's not like we don't actually have all the time in the world, because we do. But I can't help being impatient.

We've both waited so long, and I don't want to wait anymore.

I make myself finally leave the spot I've been rooted to, going into the nearest restroom and shutting the door behind me. I check my hair and makeup, re-applying my lip-gloss and washing my hands. I'm still so fidgety and nervous, and I don't even know why.

It's not like he and I haven't seen each other every day for over a year, since before the last Miss Mystic Falls pageant. It's not like he doesn't sleep in my bed, like we haven't kissed, touched, or even made love before. But the prospect of actually _being_ with him? Mouth drying, pulse accelerating, nail biting anticipation and excitement and just pure, embarrassing giddiness.

He's just so…_everything._

I make myself look in the mirror and take a deep breath.

"You are a strong, confident woman and you can do this. And no matter what, you are not going to tear his clothes off in front of a whole pageant full of people. You're not."

I jump at a knock on the door, so distracted with thinking about him that I didn't even hear the person approach. I have got to get a grip on myself.

"Um, I'll be out in a minute," I call out and check over my appearance one final time. For as much of a mess that's going on inside my body, outwardly I look great and I have no idea how that's even possible.

I turn the doorknob and open it just a crack when I'm stuck.

Damon's eyes are blazing, his hand reaching through the small space to land on my hip and guiding me back into the restroom, his foot kicking the door closed behind us.

"Hey," I whisper and I know I have the biggest grin on my face, but I don't even care. I toss my purse on the counter so my hands are free to cup his jaw, my thumbs stroking over his perfect cheekbones.

He doesn't speak.

"Damon, what's wrong?"

I search his features and there's so much hesitation, so many questions. _Not_ the relief that I saw five minutes ago.

My heart, breath, everything stops.

"I'm too late, aren't I?" I whisper horrified, taking a step back.

God, how could I have been so stupid? How could I think that after all that I've put him through, that he could still want me? I don't deserve him, and I know that, but I thought…

I turn away so he won't be able to see the tears that are beginning to well out of disappointment and mortification. But my back isn't even fully to him when I feel his fingers above my elbow, spinning me so I'll face him.

I don't meet his eyes. I know it'll hurt too much.

I'm not prepared when his hands cradle my face, no hesitation as his mouth presses to mine. I'm so confused, but I can't resist melting into his kiss because every part of me knows that this is right. His hands are strong but his mouth is soft, our lips a perfect match as they support each other.

He suddenly growls and holds me tighter, his arm winding over my shoulder and his other around my waist so I'm crushed to him. His mouth opens over mine, his tongue hungry and demanding and it feels _incredible_. It's been too long since I've kissed him like this, and I don't know what the hell I was thinking in waiting so long because there's nothing better than this.

He starts to pull away and I realize that I'm bent backwards under the force of his lips, my leg hiked up around his waist and his fingertips teasing the back of my thigh. I don't even remember doing that, but I don't want him to stop now that I can feel his hands on my skin.

He squeezes my thigh a bit and I don't really want to, but I unwind my leg from him; his hand dragging over my bottom and resting in the small of my back as we straighten. He doesn't go far, his forehead against mine as my hands find their place on either side of his neck.

"Elena," he whispers and I have never loved my name more. "Do you really not know me at all?"

I huff out a breath in relief, my mind spinning under the onslaught of emotions.

"I'm sorry, you just looked so-"

"You have to be sure," he says quietly, like it's difficult to speak. There's so much worry in his voice, that desperate fear that I'm going to run and change my mind.

It's breaking my heart that he's so scared, but I know he has every reason to be. I've hurt him so many times in the past, it's no wonder and I don't blame him. And I'm going to do everything I can to make sure he never has to be nervous again.

"I am sure," I tell him, leaning back so he can see in my eyes that I'm speaking with every ounce of conviction I have to give.

"I'm not going to hide, Elena," he says softly. "I can't be with you only at night, when no one sees and you're safe from whatever they think. You know what I want, and _I won't_ _give you back_."

"You don't have to do any of those things, Damon. And I'm not asking you to," I promise. "I want this, have wanted this. This is what I choose," I say and he finally smiles again, looking just as free and unburdened as he did by the stairs.

He kisses me with an intensity that burns with passion, lingers with devotion, and it's the only thing I'll ever need.

"You and me?" he asks when he pulls back, sounding like he can't quite grasp it.

I nod, utterly speechless because I can't believe it's real and finally happening either.

I'm his, and he's mine.

"And you couldn't have told me this yesterday?" he smirks and I can't help but laugh.

"I tried," I tease, sliding one hand from his neck to poke him in the chest. "You left too fast."

"Wait, yesterday _morning_?"

"Mm-hmm," I nod as he winds his fingers through mine, bringing them up to his lips and kissing the back of my hand before he lays them over his heart. "And I tried to tell you the night before, but _someone_ was drunk."

"Hammered," he corrects and I roll my eyes and shake my head at him. "When did…" he drifts off, his eyes narrowing as he studies me, then shrugs. "You know what? Never mind. I don't even care."

"Where were you last night?" I whisper.

"I was exactly where I was supposed to be," he says haughtily, his hands on my hips pulling me closer against him. "Where were _you_ last night?"

"No, you weren't. You never came home," I frown at him and he rolls his eyes.

"Where do you think I was, Elena?"

He waits and smiles deviously while I try to think, which is being made increasingly difficult by one of his hands drifting further south and lightly squeezing my bottom.

"You were at my house, weren't you?"

"Mm-hmm," he nods, sliding his knee between my legs and delicately kissing my neck.

Holy crap that feels amazing, and there's no way in hell he doesn't know exactly what he's doing to my body. I'm already so turned on and all I want to do is shred this masterpiece of a suit he's wearing, touch every inch of him with my tongue and my teeth and have him do the same. I know I'm not supposed to, I'm just having a hard time remembering why.

Oh yeah, because I'm _not_ the kind of girl that has sex in the bathroom at pageants. I'm not.

_Right?_

Screw it, I could be.

"Should've known…" I mumble, but I can barely remember what we were talking about.

"Yes, you should've," he laughs and his breath on my skin sends shivers down my spine.

"You know, we don't communicate all that well," I mutter and realize I'm stepping backwards under his guidance, my back hitting a wall or something.

"It's easier to communicate when you have your phone."

"Sorry," I grin as his teeth scrape my jaw.

His hands slowly squeeze and caress my sides up to my breasts and I hear myself moan as he rocks his hips forward, teasing me with his erection that's sealed away under layers of stupid clothes.

"It's fine," he assures me, biting my earlobe with blunt teeth and sweeping his thumb over my nipple.

I gasp at the touch and practically buckle.

It feels like it's been years since he's touched me, and the logical part of my brain is saying that it hasn't been nearly that long, but it really does feel like it. Everything he's doing is drawing the most intense, deliciously heightened sensations from me and I'm more than ready to crumble at the slightest provocation.

I can't wait anymore.

"Damon," I tremble, "I need you…"

"I know," he smiles and kisses me deeply. "But not here."

"You're such a tease," I pout and nip at his bottom lip.

"Pot, kettle, Elena. You're the one not wearing any underwear."

"Not true," I shake my head at him. "Thong."

He cocks his head at me and grins with a flare of his eyes, slipping both hands under my dress and exploring my skin to check that I'm telling him the truth. He finds the lace band that's lying over my hips, slipping his fingertips underneath it and following it around to the top of my bottom.

"Mean girl," he teases and pops the band so it lightly slaps back against my skin.

"You don't know the half of it," I smile and reach between us, cradling his length through his pants. His eyes roll back and a rumble pours from his throat, and I can actually feel him getting harder in my palm.

I don't know if anything makes me more proud than knowing I can do this to him.

"Elena, you realize that any second Blondie is going to burst through that door looking for you, right? She's already pissed," he grins, looking like he couldn't be more pleased about the prospect of an angry Caroline.

"What are you talking about?"

"Shhh," he tells me, tapping his ear and I listen.

Caroline is outside going from person to person asking if they've seen me, and I can barely stifle my laugh. Not two seconds later I hear her in the dining room scarcely ten feet from us, cursing under her breath just loud enough that vampire ears will be sure to catch her voice.

"Elena Gilbert, you better crawl out of whatever closet you're stuffed into with Damon-freaking-Salvatore and _get out here_. You have responsibilities to attend to, and if you're not outside in two minutes I will find you and _believe me_, you won't be happy when I do."

We wait while the clacking of irritated heels fades away and I know I'm flushed from her accusation, but Damon's just smiling smugly and I really couldn't be happier.

"I should go," I whisper, but it's the last thing in the world that I actually want to do.

"So go," he shrugs before leaning in slowly, kissing me soft and sweet and sending fresh tingles raging through my body.

Yeah, there's no way I'm ever going to be able to calm down in time to go face Caroline without being majorly busted. I'm so screwed, and not in the way I want to be.

"I, um, I need a minute," I blush.

"Yeah, fucking tell me about it," he smirks then adjusts the front of his pants with a deep, rumbly growl.

Ugh, I freaking _love_ that sound.

"Save me a dance, Elena," he winks at me over his shoulder, shutting the door behind him as he leaves.

* * *

By the time I finally settle down enough to rejoin society, I know I'm late. Everyone is crowded around the dance floor, and Caroline is in full glory at the microphone getting ready to introduce the court. It really feels like a lifetime ago that I was being introduced the same way.

I know I won't ever forget seeing Damon at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me.

My eyes are only beginning my search when I find him immediately to my left, applauding politely and staring at me in the way he knows steals my breath.

_Oh my gosh_ I'm never going to be able to get through this day with him looking at me like that. I just got myself settled, and now it was all for nothing because with just one look he has my skin on fire and my mind scrambling to figure out how mad Caroline will be if he and I just leave, right now.

It would absolutely be worth it, no doubt in my mind.

My plot to escape is interrupted as Matt comes to stand next to me, and thank God he's human and doesn't have heightened senses.

"Have you seen Jeremy?"

"He's probably with the escorts," I answer because he better be.

I glance over to the line of boys in suits, and he's nowhere to be found. Oh no.

"Yeah, Caroline told me to wrangle the escorts and he's not here," Matt says sounding frustrated.

I don't blame him for being annoyed, after years of worrying and watching after Vicky now he's taken it upon himself to do the same for Jeremy. Matt's such a great brother, even to mine, but it's exhausting to constantly be on alert for your troublesome siblings.

"Did he tell you about his nightmares?"

"What nightmares?" I ask; I almost don't want to.

But if Matt is asking if I know that means that Jeremy's hiding it, and this just has disaster written all over it.

I really hope Damon is listening to us.

"The ones where he kills you."

_What?_

_No, no, no…_

Why does it seem like every latest supernatural phenomenon has landed on Jeremy? First with the ghosts and now this Hunter thing... I just wanted him to have a normal life, as much as he possibly could.

This is so unfair.

"I'll find him," I tell Matt.

I look back towards the procession hoping Jeremy has magically appeared and I see April is at the top of the stairs, looking stunning in the red dress I told her to wear and no idea that my brother has disappeared.

"April's about to get abandoned…"

"I got this," he tells me quietly and I'm so grateful for him.

"Thanks," I tell him and he leaves to rescue her just as Damon rescued me.

What is with this pageant?

I search the crowd for my brother again as Caroline stumbles over Jeremy's name, realizing at the last minute that he's not there. But Matt steps in just in time, his arm extended and April lighting up and I wonder if that's what I looked like?

The music starts to swell and I realize with a pang that I probably didn't because I was so in love with Stefan at the time. I was so thankful that Damon was there, and I won't deny that he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, but I don't know if he knows any of that because I was so disappointed in his brother.

I reach for my phone, now worried and frustrated with mine because apparently brothers and pageants can't co-exist without them trying to murder somebody.

I re-clasp my purse and my eyes land on Damon, and I know he's remembering last year just as I am. But his eyes aren't brimming with memories of dragging Stefan out of the woods, they're singing the song we danced to and reminding me of the grace of his bow. They're reaching for me the same as how his skin called to mine while we circled each other, even with the space between us. And I can still feel his hand appropriately high on my back, leading me with confident and poised steps. I followed him easily, and I will now for as long as he'll allow me to do so.

I still really want to ask him when everything changed for him, if maybe this was the moment. There was something that shifted when we danced the waltz from his past, and I know I felt it. I wonder if he did.

More than anything, I hope he knows how much I appreciate everything he did for me, especially when he supposedly didn't care. It meant so much to me, and always will.

I'm going to tell him as soon as I can. He deserves to know how precious this memory is, and how much I wish I was dancing with him right now.

But first I need to find my brother.

I leave the crowded dance floor so I can try to call Jeremy, and Caroline is on me so fast I don't even know how she got here without drawing attention.

"Hey, what's with the last minute escort change? Where is Jeremy?" she whispers at me like this is my fault.

Thanks a lot.

"I'm calling him right now," I say and sigh as his voicemail clicks on. Thank God Damon just walked over because I really need him beside me to deal with this. "But he's not picking up."

"Do the math; emo teen, open bar… It's fine," he says confidently and adjusting his jacket like it's no big deal that my brother is missing. He must not have heard my conversation with Matt.

"Matt said that Jeremy's been having nightmares about killing vampires and he's been hiding it from me."

Caroline looks just as shocked as I feel. And Damon is studying me closely, but it almost looks like he's more concerned about me being upset than about Jeremy.

"Relax, I'm sure he's fine," he shrugs and I desperately want to believe him.

Damon would never lie to me, especially about this. He knows better than anyone what it's like to constantly worry about your brother who may be going crazy and possibly might want to kill you.

"I don't know, I have a bad feeling," I tell him.

"If I'm not worried then you shouldn't be worried. Let it go," he says and it's so sincere that I finally start to feel some of the anxiety dissipate that's overtaken me ever since Matt and I talked.

I trust him, and if he says it's fine and not to worry, then I'm going to try my best not to.

"I'll go look for him," he tells us and I could just kiss him right now in front of Caroline and all her judgment for that.

He would never let anything bad happen to Jeremy. They developed a surprising, but special bond after this past summer when Damon was always at our house. I know he was there to watch over me, but he did so much more than that.

He cooked for us, and gave Jeremy just enough grief to actually get him to eat the balanced meals I can't convince him to go anywhere near. He only slightly complained at all the dumb movies we forced on him, and he spent endless hours playing video games on the couch with Jeremy. He stepped into the role of mentor and big brother seamlessly, and I know that Jeremy looks up to him, even if he'd never admit it.

And Damon loves me enough to understand how much I need my brother to be safe. After all, he's the one that compelled Jeremy to go to Denver so I could try and keep him out of all of this, and Damon was the one who took me to pick him up when our plan failed. He's done so much to help me try to protect him, and if Damon's going to look for him, he'll find him. Jeremy will be safe.

"Okay," I tell him and he leaves to save my brother, though I wish I would have said I would go with him to look.

"Okay you go home, I'm going to start asking around here," Caroline tells me and I'm instantly irritated.

First off, stop telling me what to do and second, I would have loved to go home ten minutes ago before all of this crap, but I can't now. And I'm not going anywhere without Damon.

"Maybe Damon's right. Maybe he grabbed a bottle from the bar and snuck off to the woods."

More than possible.

"No," she says and I don't even want to hear what she's going to say when she's cocking her head at me and using her "Are you stupid?" voice, but she's going to say it anyway and I don't have a choice but to listen. "Damon's never right. Damon is sneaky, and manipulative, and rude. But he's never right."

Is she serious right now? Do I really have to make a list of all the things that he _has_ been right about? What about how many times he's saved all of us, including her? And she wants to talk about being manipulative? Why doesn't she take a good look at the guy she's championing for me, or, here's a thought, how about at her damn date?

"How can you not see that?"

How can you not hear how dumb everything you're saying sounds?

"I don't know, but why do I think that you won't hesitate to tell me?"

I'm being a little snarky but I don't even care. I'm worried, monumentally offended, and sexually frustrated to top it off. She does not want to mess with me right now.

"Fine," she snips and I know I should just walk away right now. "Friend-tervention. I think your so-called 'feelings' for Damon are really starting to cloud your judgment and I don't like it."

Where in the hell do you get off implying my feelings for Damon are fake? You don't know the first thing about what you're talking about so do yourself a favor and shut up.

And P.S. I don't give a flying crap what you don't like. This is my damn life.

"And the thought of you two together really makes me want to barf," she finishes in full, gesturing flare and I suddenly understand why Damon and Stefan gut-stake each other all the time. Girl is lucky we're in a crowd full of witnesses, although that can be rectified.

Klaus arrives as if on cue, and talk about making me want to barf. Take a good look, Caroline. The guy standing next to you _killed me_, killed Jenna, has tried to kill every last one of you, and calling him a mass-murdering psycho path is putting it kindly. He compelled Stefan to turn off his humanity and bite me, sired your boyfriend, and makes no excuse of the fact that he wants to use me as a blood bag to create an army of slaves.

But apparently he's worthy escort material?

Fuck. You.

"Easy, love. You're making a scene," he tells her and I'm done. I'm so fucking done.

"Wow, Caroline. Thank you, for making this very difficult time so much easier," I spit at her and leave like I should have done minutes ago.

I can't deal with these people anymore.

I'm going to go make sure Jeremy's fine, then Damon and I can go home.

Finally.

* * *

**A/N: Whew, that was a little bit if everything. Gotta say, love bitching out Caroline, even though she used to be one of my favorite characters. But now I just kinda wanna shave her eyebrows off just for fun. Hmm, ideas... Anyways, still lots to go because we're only halfway thru the episode. So much fun to be had! So please follow, and cannot thank you enough for all the reviews you guys have been leaving! Y'all rock!**

**-Goldnox**


	6. Truly Terrible

**A/N: Well hello! Bit of a delay on this one, life, too many commitments, chaos. Sorry :( And on that note, we're gonna have us a little chat. **

**_SIRE BOND:_ So, there has been a fair amount of concern expressed regarding the dreaded sire-bond. Here's the deal. As of this episode, 4x07, neither Damon or Elena were aware of this inconvenient little plot development and did not become aware until 4x08. So, for that reason, you will never see the words sire-bond enter into this text or be hinted at in any way. Knowing what we know, I try to be very careful not to have Damon accidently give a "command" to Elena when writing his dialogue. And in canon scenes where the bond was implied at taking effect, I do my best to find a valid justification for why Elena would respond in that way. She doesn't know the bond is there, so something else is going thru her mind.**

**Now, occasionally Damon's words can be construed as sire-bond-ish in canon and non-canon scenes. Whether you want to think Elena is responding only because of the bond IS UP TO YOU. I am not writing it with that intention, at all. In my mind every question and every answer is purely what each wants with NO ulterior motives or manipulation, because again, they were not aware that was even possible. If Damon tells Elena to take off her clothes and she does, I believe its because that's what she WANTS to do, regardless of the bond. We know the bond does not effect emotions and this is a love story folks. When you love somebody, you wanna get naked. Yup. **

**I hope this helps clear up any confusion or worry about the bond, and please feel free to PM me if you have any concerns. :)**

***Stepping off soap-box now...***

**Hope you all enjoy!**

**Episode point of reference: Damon just walked away from a squabbling Elena and Caroline, and is on the hunt for Baby Bro Gilbert. Somebody needs to make a phone call...**

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

**Truly Terrible**

I check the clock I pass by once back inside the Lockwood house and I sigh. Yep, I should totally be naked right now.

Fucking Founders and small town ritualistic crap. It's like they design this shit just to screw with my life. It figures that we would be stuck in obligation hell the day Elena declares that she wants me.

Actually wants _me_.

And it's not even about sex.

She's always wanted my body, I knew that much. Her pulse and feminine response could never hide that simple fact.

But this time, she wants my heart. She's ready to give me hers.

And for that I should have her olive skin against mine and us tangled in creamy sheets, exactly where I know we both want to be. But that's not where we are, not by a long shot.

The worst part is I know I won't get us there until I Miss Marple my way through the Case of the Disappearing Brothers and figure out how I'm going to make Caroline suffer for all that shit she was telling Elena about me.

Blondie should know better.

She's been a vampire long enough that she should have damn well known that I would hear everything she said. I wasn't even five steps away when she started with the "sneaky, manipulative, and rude" lecture. It just got better from there, but I didn't want to hear anymore. I know what Beauty Queen thinks of me, and the last thing I caught was something about her saying me and Elena together makes her want to barf. Real classy, Caroline.

I'm trying to convince myself not to focus on the fact that Elena didn't say much. She's not big on public scenes, which she can never avoid, and she hates fighting with her friends even more. She can be a bit of a pushover and she lets them shame her for shit that is not her fault, which I really hate. Just like when Bonnie decided she was mad at _Elena_ because _I_ turned Abby, and all Elena did was constantly apologize for being alive.

That was the biggest load of bullshit I have ever seen in my life.

Did Elena ask me to do that? No.

Was she even aware that was happening? No.

Would she have sacrificed herself for her friend's mom if she had the choice? Yes.

And if Bonnie wants to be mad at me about it, fine. But the whole "whenever you make a choice, somebody else suffers" statement was pure crap. How did she not see that she was telling me she'd rather have her friend die, than have the woman that abandoned her be given eternal life?

God, I hate her friends.

Elena had to know they weren't going to like the prospect of us together. I don't think she'd change her mind about me just because they wanted her to, but she loves them for some reason I can't explain and she's not going to be happy if they're constantly giving her shit about us. I don't give a fuck what they think, and I'll endure all their dirty looks as long as I have Elena, but I can't help be a little concerned.

I would never ask her to choose. But they might.

My stomach twists at the thought. I just want her to be happy.

I step inside an empty room and shut the door behind me.

I can't do shit about her friends, but I can make sure her brother is safe. I know she needs that more than anything else right now, and we can figure out how to deal with the rest later.

Jeremy is definitely not here, and I have a pretty good idea of who he might be with. I'd much rather be wrong and find out that he's off getting drunk or stoned and making moves on some chick in the woods, but I doubt that's the case.

I take out my phone and try his number, and it goes right to voicemail. No surprise there.

Time to confront the truth.

"What?" Stefan answers on the second ring.

I can't quite figure out where he's at based on the only noise in the background being his shoes echoing on what sounds like old stone. Nothing good ever happens in places that sound like that.

"Just wondering when you might be making an appearance to wreak havoc on an otherwise uneventful town event? There are lots of girls in pretty dresses for you to munch on, and even a hybrid or two for you to threaten. You're missing all the fun."

"I'm busy."

Yeah, I bet you are.

"Your boyfriend's here macking all over Barbie," I tease. "Thought you might care, jealousy streak and all."

"She owed him a date for the hybrid he gave us so we could break the curse."

Interesting…

"I was actually referring to Klaus' attention not being trained directly on your ass, but glad to see you're moving on to blonder things that haven't tried to kill our girlfriend."

"Elena is not _our_ girlfriend," he growls.

Damn right she's not.

"Whatever you say, Stefan," I say, acting like I'm placating him but we both know the truth by now and he better fucking remember it. "Professor Shady is here too, it's a regular old pow-wow at Camp Lockwood. I was just about to break out the acoustic guitar and start singing 'Why Can't We Be Friends?' You should stop by, we could harmonize."

"What is Shane doing there?"

"Fuck if I know. Probably trying to select his next victims for ritualistic suicide."

"You haven't threatened him into a grave yet?" he asks skeptically.

"I'm about to," I grin. "We need to find a Hunter and he's our best shot if we want to keep Baby Gilbert out of it."

Silence. Fuck.

"We don't need another Hunter," he says calm and calculated.

Fucking fuck fuck fuck.

"Please don't tell me that you've roped Jeremy into a world of crazy."

I told you to leave him out of it, and that I had a plan to keep it that way. You should've listened to me, but no. You have to be a complete moron. She is never going to forgive you for screwing with her brother, and did you ever consider that when she finds out she's not only going to be upset about him, but devastated that you're off rounding up vampires to sacrifice when you're supposed to be the one that gives a shit about collateral damage?

"I had no choice. Elena needs the cure."

If anyone needs to be cured of anything, it's you. There is nothing wrong with her, and here's a newsflash for you, Stef. If you wanted her to still love you, maybe you should've stopped lying to her all the time. Or, here's an idea, how about being the man she needed you to be and just support her instead of telling her how fucked her life is and making every problem about yourself?

And do you honestly believe that if you do cure her and she has some sort of aneurysm and decides she loves you again, that Klaus isn't going to try to take her or she'll wind up permanently dead?

Curing Elena is the worst idea you've ever had. And that is saying something.

"Oh, right. So you can turn her back into the girl that's still in love with you."

"You know, I get why you wouldn't want to believe it Damon, but she isn't herself anymore."

Really? Then who the hell is she? Because last I checked she's still the girl that covers her eyes at scary movies, thinks cinnamon toothpaste is the only thing worse than steamed spinach, and would do anything for her friends and family including die for them. Or kill for them.

But sprout a couple of fangs and holy shit! She's suddenly The Great and Terrible Elena, terrorizing towns and destroying skyscrapers and eating babies.

Give me a break.

You lost her, and it was your own damn fault. Nothing else's.

"Of course you would think that. Leave it alone, Stefan."

I hang up the phone and a door closes behind me.

Perfume overtakes me and I breathe it in, letting it soak all the way from mouth to my toes. It seeps through my blood, carried through twisting veins and over taut muscles and I'm immediately more calm, my nerves and irritation with my brother just evaporating under the haze of citrus.

I turn around to face her and can't help but smile, she's absolutely breathtaking. She's got her little black clutch in her hands, fidgeting nervously and her eyes are darting between my mouth and my shoes. She bites her lip in the way I hate, and shifts her weight again from one foot to the other. She's so damn adorable when she's nervous.

"Blondie stake Klaus yet?" I tease to get her to look at my eyes, and it works.

She huffs out a breath that makes her shoulders slump, a sweet little pout overtaking her mouth and her forehead wrinkling. Two determined steps and she's slamming into me.

"Umpf," I say as I catch her, rocking back on my heels and her arms around my neck so tight it actually hurts a little.

I love it when she hugs me like this, like my arms are the only thing she trusts.

I place a hand on her back and cup her neck with my other so she feels warm, protected and safe, and she sniffles.

Aw hell. Can't I get her through one day without any tears? Is that too much to ask?

"Tell me you have a stake on you," she half-pleads and I really want to laugh, but I don't. Instead I drop a small kiss on her shoulder and listen to her heart race.

Works like a charm.

"With you close? Always," I growl into her ear and pull her hips tighter against mine.

"Damon!" she scolds half-heartedly, pulling back and swatting at my shoulder but not fully releasing me. She's almost smiling again. "I meant a real stake, like a wooden one," she says seriously and trying to regain her broody composure.

I glance down at my pants and back at her, raising an eyebrow for good measure. She blushes deep crimson and her eyes sparkle, the corner of her mouth peeking up.

"Damon…" she whines.

"Go ahead, say 'hard and pointy,'" I say quietly and as sexy as possible, and we have a winner. Full beaming smile, accompanied with scandalized giggles. My favorite.

"You're terrible," she tries to scowl and fails miserably, her fingers starting to play with my hair as she leans comfortably against my hands on her back.

"Awful," I grimace and shake my head. "No good, very bad Damon."

"You just think you're so cute, don't you?"

"Cute? Pfft," I scoff. "Koala's are cute. _This?_ This is all sexy."

"Is that right?" she cocks her head at me.

"Hey, I wasn't the one trying to convince herself that she wasn't going to 'tear my clothes off in front of pageant full of people.'"

"Damon!"

"What? I didn't hear a thing," I say innocently.

"It's rude to eavesdrop," she glares, but it's completely undercut by the flush on her cheeks.

"You're right," I concede before grinning wickedly. "But it's a lot of fun."

"Ugh," she rolls her eyes and shoves at my chest, sending me back a foot and breaking our hold. "Now I have to find two stakes …" she mutters and turns towards the door.

"Hey," I whisper and grab her hand, "where do you think you're going?"

I tug just enough that she comes back to me, her body pressed against mine and smirking up at me in triumph because she wanted me to chase her. Like I didn't know.

I take her face in my hands and her expression softens, looking at me like she hasn't quite seen me before. I smile, and so does she.

Very tenderly, I kiss her.

Her lips are gentle and full, tasting like cherries. And I know it won't matter how many times I get to do this, I will always be mesmerized by her kiss alone.

I pull back from her slowly and it takes her a breath longer to open her eyes, as if she wasn't ready to let go. I feel myself smile; it's still always _more_.

"So what's with all the necessity of finding a stake?" I ask, brushing a loose hair back from her face and her mouth puckers into a pout.

"Caroline's being a total bitch."

I snicker a bit because I just can't help it, shaking my head and pressing a kiss on her forehead.

"Did you really expect anything different?"

"Yes," she says forcefully and my eyes widen. "She's supposed to be _my_ friend, and she should care about what I want. About what…"

"About…" I drawl, trying to get her to finish.

I know I'm really going to want to hear this, especially since she just turned five more shades of red when she trailed off.

She glances down at her feet, and when she takes a breath and looks back up at me her eyes are glowing.

"About what makes me happy," she says softly.

"Hmm," I grin and kiss her again, my mind at a dead stop and pulse racing.

She said she was happy.

Her delicate little hands make their way up to my neck, pulling me harder against her. I'm also not missing the fact that her right leg is now on the outside of mine, her knee bent just the slightest bit like she wants to wrap it around my waist but she's keeping herself from doing it.

I have half a mind to take her behind the knee and remind her why she wants to do it, but if I so much as touch any other part of her skin I'm gonna end up ripping her dress off. I'm already wound like a top after making out in the bathroom and I can sense how much she wants me and I've gotta keep this shit together.

We're at a high school pageant, surrounded by plotting council members and all the evil villains they swore to protect their precious humans against, including an immortal hybrid hell bent on making out and off with the sheriff's daughter. I've got a guy to interrogate and brothers to track down, and I _love_ this damn dress she poured herself into. I won't risk tearing it, no matter how much I want to.

Besides, we're due for some sort of interruption any second because if Elena and I ever got a chance to be alone for more than five minutes without being busted and judged then Mystic Falls would get sucked into a black hole.

"Elena," I mumble against her lips.

"Hmm?"

"When do we get to leave?"

She pulls back and half-smiles, half-frowns.

Damn it.

"I have one more thing for the ceremony I have to do," she says apologetically, then just as quick she downgrades into worry. "Did you find Jeremy?"

"Yep," I nod proudly so she'll relax. "Not drunk."

"Thank God," she huffs out. "I don't know if I can deal with anything else right now."

Shit. Can't wait until she finds out where he is and who he's with and what he's been doing. That's gonna be fun.

At least it's not my fault, for once.

I kiss her forehead gently, trying to soak this up because once she knows I might not get to do this for a while, and that really fucking sucks.

"Why does everything have to be so hard?" she whispers and my chest immediately hurts.

"Some things are better hard," I smirk and flare my eyes, and I win her smile back.

If only it were always that easy.

"You always have a joke ready to go, don't you?"

"A nudist, a penguin, and a Rabbi walk into a bar…" I start and she laughs just a touch.

But it doesn't last long and her eyes become serious, and suddenly she looks very tired.

I frown a bit and touch her chin, lifting it just an inch.

"Life is hard because it's life," I tell her gently. "And if it wasn't hard, it would be boring as all hell," I smile at her.

"I think I'd settle for boring at this point," she mumbles.

"You wound me!" I say, feigning dramatic shock and my hand hitting over my heart. "Surely, you jest."

"Don't call me Shirley," she teases, batting her eyelashes in a way that would probably cause four cardiac arrests at once if she did it in public. Fuck, make it ten.

"Oooh," I wince and shake my head. "You're only getting away with that travesty of a joke because you're wearing a thong."

"How do you know I'm still wearing it? I could have ditched it in the bathroom after you left for all you know."

"Elena…" I growl at her in warning and pull her closer, her devious giggles working their way right down to the front of my pants.

There's a knock on the door only a fraction of a moment before it opens, and even with her vampire speed Elena's not fast enough to wiggle away before receiving the disappointed glare of Carol fucking Lockwood.

If I wasn't so pissed at the third interruption of the day I'd probably be laughing my ass off, because she looks so guilty you'd think the Mayor of Martini-ville caught us having sex.

"Carol," I nod my head at her so she'll stop frowning at my girl and instead give me her patented you're-beautiful-trouble-and-I-want-to-know-all-ab out-it half-drunk grin.

"Damon," she says and doesn't disappoint with the expression, woman's been looking at me like that since _before_ her husband died. "Didn't expect to find you in here…"

Sure you didn't.

"Elena, honey, we need you for the presentation ceremony. We're about to announce the new Miss Mystic Falls."

"I'll be right there, Mrs. Lockwood," Elena smiles and blushes.

"Right, well," Carol pauses, clasping her hands in front of her and acting like she's not leaving until one of us goes with her. What a joke. "We don't want to keep the girls waiting."

"She'll be right there, Carol," I smirk at her. She narrows her eyes at me but I don't give a fuck.

If she wants me to keep coming to her fundraisers and leaving hefty little checks, then she's going to get the hell out of this room five seconds ago and not speak a word about her opinions on any of this to Elena. Ever.

She seems to get my silent message the moment I think it and backs out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Too bad her son didn't inherit her sense of self-preservation.

"Oh my God, I am never going to hear the end of this," Elena sighs and covers her eyes with her hands.

"It's fine, Elena," I chuckle. "She's two martinis in, and in another two she'll have forgotten all about this."

I pull her hand away from her face, ignoring her scowl as I place a kiss to her palm and lay it over my heart.

"Now, what were we talking about?"

"I was saying I'm wearing six pairs of underwear and a chastity belt with an impenetrable lock."

"Liar," I laugh. "No, seriously," I say and make my face match my words. "Exactly how long do we have to stay here before I get to take you home and disprove this falsehood?"

"Terrible!" she giggles.

"Truly," I nod at her before stealing a light kiss.

"I should go," she says with a wrinkle of her nose. "She's just going to come back in here in a minute, or send Caroline."

I visibly shiver, and she purses her lips and shakes her head at me, but it doesn't hide her grin.

She really is happy.

"Hmm," I rumble cheerfully, taking her chin between my thumb and forefinger and kissing her sweet and slow. I wait until her tongue touches my lips before I pull away. "Uh-uh, you have a tiara to award," I whisper and she blushes, huffing her disappointment and taking one more taste from my lips like she can't resist.

"Okay," she says, taking a steadying breath and fidgeting with her dress while I pretend to straighten her braid. "See you soon?"

"Oh yeah."

I don't know how she manages to blush even deeper, but she does. I let her go and watch as she takes two steps back before turning gracefully to reach for the door. I get one beaming glance over her shoulder before she steps outside and shuts it behind her, but she doesn't leave.

I listen as she stands on the other side of the door, trying to catch the breath she thinks I didn't notice she lost.

"Tick-tock, Elena," I say quietly and I hear her jump, the hand she still has on the doorknob causing it to rattle.

"Shut up," she mutters through the walls at me, but I can hear the smile in her voice. I don't even care that she can hear me proudly chuckling before she quickly heads outside.

I love this fucking pageant. Gets better every year.

* * *

**A/N: Alrighty folks, we are officially at the half way point! Whoo! Forwarning, updates may be slowing a bit due to time constraints, but I thank you all for your patience and support. And as always, please review, I cherish every thought, and thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	7. The Before And The After

**A/N: Howdy darlins! Happy Tuesday! Thanks to all for kindness and patience, and as always, for being awesome readers! Enjoy!**

**Episode point of reference: Last chapter Elena and Damon were macking on each other in non canon land, and Carol Lockwood interrupted them because she blows. So Elena is now still wandering around in non-canon as she waits for the presentation ceremony to start. Then we're gonna jump over the canon scene in which Elena and Jeremy have a tussle match and Elena loses, going right to the entrance of Damon after Stefan drops a confession bomb on Elena about his role in screwing with Jeremy. Ta-da!**

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

**The Before and The After**

Razzle frat.

Jack Sprat.

Ker-splat.

"…so then she said that I had to fill out the application _again_, and I just couldn't believe it! I mean, seriously Elena, have you ever…"

Doodle poodle.

Squirmy noodle.

Perky toodle.

This sucks.

I could still be in that room wrapped around Damon while Mrs. Lockwood tries to round up the judges, but no. I'm stuck out here, listening to people babble while I'm nodding and smiling, trying to look appropriately reactive to whatever I-forgot-her-name is rambling on about.

I could be-

What the hell was that?

"Elena? Are you alright?" the girl in front of me asks, clearly just as surprised by my jump and shudder as I was by the fingertip that just trailed down my back, running the whole length of exposed skin from the clasp at my neck to the bottom of the keyhole in my dress.

I turn and look and sure enough, Damon just passed behind me and is walking away with a nice little spring in his step.

"I'm great," I smile at her and I must be blushing because she's looking at me like every one of the secrets he and I share is painted on my cheeks.

"He's gorgeous," she whispers and I could swear I just heard him chuckle from wherever it is he went. "Wasn't he your escort last year?"

"Yeah, he was."

"So, are you guys dating or something? Because if you're not, can I-"

"Yes, we are," I tell her to cut her off. "Well, something like that."

"Something like that," I hear him say quietly with another chuckle.

I glance towards his voice and he's sitting twenty feet away, smiling at me while sipping champagne and looking beautiful and sexy and absolutely mouthwatering and _Jesus_ this is so unfair.

I instantly feel the blood rush to my cheeks and heat between my legs, and I narrow my eyes at him because he freaking _knows_ what is going on under my dress.

He has to, because he actually winks at me and raises his glass just an inch as if he's saluting my response.

I barely catch myself from calling him an ass because if I say anything the girl who's watching me gawk at him is going to think I'm talking to her. So I have no choice but to only purse my lips to try and hide the traitor grin I know is sneaking across my face.

He sets down his glass, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms and looking so darn smug it should be worthy of a citation or something.

I roll my eyes at him, and he licks his lips with a smile.

Oh yeah, he's in trouble.

"Elena?"

"Huh?"

"Elena, I asked if you've seen Caroline," Mrs. Lockwood says more than frustrated. "I swear, I don't know what's gotten into you girls today. We need to present the award and I turn around for one minute and then I can't seem to find her anywhere."

Finally. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can take him home and gladly show him how much trouble he's getting himself into.

"Um, I think I saw her with Klaus, on the bench over by that tree," I say and point to where I last spotted my hypocrite of a best friend.

"Good. Well _stay here_, and I'll be right back with her. We're already running late," she huffs and I shudder at the overwhelming trace of Gin she leaves behind as she stomps away.

"So, like I was saying, I had to fill out my application twice…" the girl in front of me says and I turn my attention back to her.

Razzle frat.

* * *

Sun.

Air.

Grass.

Wind.

Jeremy.

Shoes, where are my shoes?

They're in my hand.

Jeremy…

I have to find Jeremy.

He…

He tried…

No.

I'm his sister.

He wouldn't…

Jeremy…

* * *

His fault.

Stefan's fault…

Jeremy…

The only way to fix all this?

Fix me.

His fault I'm dead.

Jeremy tried…

All Stefan's fault.

* * *

I watch Stefan's shoulder slump as he walks further away from me, and then I turn my back on him.

"Hey, you okay?" Damon asks as he steps towards me.

"No. Where have you been?"

"With Shane," he shrugs.

"Right," I huff and roll my eyes. "Did you hear him? I can't _believe_ Stefan."

"What's this, Elena?" he asks, his eyes growing three times as big as he takes in the red soaked handkerchief in my hand.

"Is there still blood on my neck?" I ask quietly, tilting my head to the side.

"What?" he rushes out, cupping my cheek in one hand and sweeping his thumb over my neck with his other. "Why would there be blood on your neck?"

"Because…" I tremble, my throat suddenly closing over my answer and my eyes beginning to water.

I need to say the words. I need to tell him.

But I don't have the air to speak.

My pounding heart stole it all and I don't know if vampires can faint, but it feels like I want to.

"Elena, I need you to breathe and tell me what happened," he says gently, wiping what I'm guessing is a mascara track off my cheek.

"Jeremy tried to kill me," I whisper.

His eyes darken and veins flare, but he pulls them back immediately.

His gaze runs over me methodically, inspecting me for damage.

"Are you hurt?"

His voice is cold, quick, calculating.

It terrifies me.

"No…"

"Good. Do you know where he is?"

"Damon…?"

"Where is he?" he growls and I flinch.

"He's with Matt somewhere, I don't know. I need to go find him," I say and start looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of either of them.

"You're not going anywhere near him," he says sharply, his eyes narrowing.

"He's my brother, Damon. I have to find him."

His eyes bore into mine, blazing with the argument I can see him building.

But his stare drops to my lips and when he meets my eyes again he's softer, his jaw less tight than before.

"Is your car here?" he asks, his head jerking too fast as he cocks it to the side with his question.

He couldn't look less human than if he was wearing fangs.

"Well, yeah. But…"

"Good. Come on," he says and grabs my hand, leading me back towards the parking lot.

"Damon, slow down…"

His strides are long and fast, his head glancing left and right like he's waiting for an ambush or something and it's making me all the more nervous seeing him act like this. I can barely keep up with him he's in such a hurry. At least I have my heels in my hand, otherwise I'd be probably tripping everywhere.

"Keys," he says as soon as my car is in sight, holding out his free hand for them.

This is getting ridiculous. I can't leave without making sure Jeremy is okay.

I yank my hand away from him but he doesn't falter, snatching it right back along with my purse and digging through it with one hand until he finds my keys.

"Damon, stop! We need to find Jeremy."

I hear the door unlock a fraction of a moment before he opens the passenger side up to me, taking me by the arm and almost pushing me inside before he shuts it without a word.

He gets into the driver seat and locks the doors, putting the keys in the ignition but not turning them.

"Have you lost your mind? You cannot just drag me around and throw me into cars, you know," I glare at him.

"Elena," he says quietly and turns to me, "Jeremy will be fine with Matt for now. He's not going to hurt him, and for once you need to take care of _yourself_. If you don't, you can't take care of your brother."

"But, I-"

"He is not in control, Elena," he shakes his head. "And letting him kill you doesn't help anybody."

I don't even know what to say.

I hate it, but he's right.

If I go after Jeremy right now, there's just as much of a chance that he will try to stake me again. And if he does that in front of Damon…I don't know what Damon will do. I don't think he'd kill him, but he won't tolerate anyone trying to hurt me. Not even Jeremy.

I sniffle unconsciously and realize my cheeks are wet again.

I'm so tired of crying.

Damon's hands are gentle as they cup my face, the pads of his thumbs barely brushing me as they wipe my tears away.

"You and I are going home until we can figure this out. Together," he says softly. "Okay?"

I nod and he offers me a half smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

He lets me go and starts my car, taking my hand back once we're on the familiar path back to my house.

"Elena, I know you're upset, but I need you to tell me what happened."

He's silent as I walk him through it all.

Finding Jeremy in the room, what he said.

The way his eyes looked. Cold. Detached. Dead, but also alive.

Damon's grip on my hand tightens when I tell him about Jeremy stabbing me in the neck.

How sharp the wood was and how I could feel it break through skin and tear muscle, the popping sound in my head as it entered my windpipe. I can still taste the chemicals that were on the grain, which seems weird considering where it was. It must be my mind playing tricks on me.

And when I describe how Jeremy was moments from staking me until Stefan threw him back, I can actually hear his teeth grinding together under the strain of his jaw.

By the time he pulls into my driveway I'm seething with anger at Stefan.

I can't believe that the boy that loved me so desperately, who fought through hell to get me back, would risk the life of my brother. And for what?

To "fix all this"?

To fix me?

There's nothing wrong with me.

I may be a vampire, but I'm still me.

But all he sees when he looks at me is failure.

All he sees is _her_.

Well that's his issue, not mine.

And Stefan knows better than anyone how important free will is. How can he not see that he's taking Jeremy's choices away?

He's making him kill vampires, turning him into something he never wanted to be.

Stefan always acted like he respected my decisions, but now I know that's crap.

He only respected the decisions that he agreed with. The ones that were convenient for him. That coincided with his plans for my life.

And twice they resulted in my death.

His decision to make Jeremy into a hunter almost killed me again.

Worse, he's knowingly butchering Jeremy's humanity and he doesn't care.

And he thinks that by tearing my family apart to get some cure that it's going to make me trust him? That I'll fall back in love with him?

He's delusional.

I've forgiven him for so much in the past. Too much if he thinks I'll ever forgive him for this.

"How could he do this to Jeremy, Damon?" I half-shout. "How could he do this to me?"

"He's doing what he thinks he has to do, Elena. Any means to an end…"

"Are you serious?" I scowl at him.

He's been quiet through everything, and the first words out of his mouth are in defense of Stefan?

"How can you stick up for him right now?"

"Because as pissed off as I am," he exhales, "he's still my brother."

"Well, your brother is screwing with my brother's life," I snap and get out of the car, slamming the door harder than I really meant to but I don't even care.

It feels good.

If I had something to break, it would already be broken.

I stomp into the house, throwing the front door open with enough force that it hits against the wall then rebounds back, almost shutting on its own.

I hear as Damon's hand stops it, practically slapping against the wood as he follows me inside.

"I didn't do any of this, Elena," he grumbles and stalks right past me into the kitchen.

I drop my shoes and purse on the table, watching as he goes straight for the bourbon in the cabinet and makes himself a drink.

Of course. Like freaking clockwork.

"I know you didn't do this, but it feels like you're not on my side at all."

"I'm always on your side," he sighs, gesturing with his already empty glass. "And if you can't see that, you're blind."

He refills his glass, but with double the amount.

He swallows it all, practically in a single gulp.

Then again. No time wasted as he repeats his attempts to drink whatever he's not saying.

"Did you know this was happening?" I ask quietly, praying to God that his answer is no.

Please, let it be no.

But he doesn't speak, and his silence says it all.

"Oh my God!" I shout, blindsided with betrayal. "You did, didn't you?"

"Elena…" His voice slices over my name and I don't even want to hear anymore.

I turn away from him, sick to my stomach that I could be so naïve to think that at least one damn Salvatore would understand the importance of honesty.

"I tried to keep Jeremy out of this, but Klaus is pressuring Stefan and he thinks he doesn't have a choice."

I wheel around and grip the back of the chair, digging my fingers into the wood to keep myself from throwing something at him.

"He has a choice! Stefan's not under compulsion and he's not doing this because of Klaus and you know it!"

"Klaus wants the cure, Elena. He'll do whatever he has to do to get it."

"Klaus also wanted the coffins, and Stefan had no problem telling him no then! Why is this suddenly different?"

He doesn't say anything, just pouring another drink and downing it just as fast because I'm right, and he knows it.

"You know, if you want to yell at Stefan, fine. But you need to stop screaming at me."

"I'm just as pissed off at you as I am at Stefan," I growl and when he looks at me, he knows I mean it.

"What the hell did I do?"

"You lied to me!"

"No, I didn't," he says, turning back to the counter and his beloved bottle. "I just didn't tell you."

"You said you found him," I hiss, stalking forward close enough that I can grab his arm and make him face me.

He does this crap to me all the time, and he doesn't get to hide. Not from this.

"You said that he was _fine_."

"I said he wasn't _drunk_," he says calmly, like this is all some big joke. Then he shrugs and my vision turns red. "Which he wasn't."

"No, he was killing vampires and you knew and you deliberately kept it from me!"

"Elena, you were already pissed about Caroline," he says with a roll of his eyes and I have to curl my fingers into a fist around my dress to keep my hand from flying. "What the hell was I supposed to say? 'Oh, by the way, your brother is off staking vampires instead of being some stupid escort. Champagne?'"

"I can't even talk you right now…" I murmur and turn away from him.

I'm mentally exhausted and ready to go upstairs and take a shower, already trying to figure out how I'm going to save my brother from the clutches of the Salvatores who obviously don't give a crap about him.

I'm just passing the table when he says it.

"Good. Then we can just skip right to the make-up sex."

I grab the first thing I can reach and hurl it at him, his arm blocking the heel of my shoe just before it strikes.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Is that seriously all you want from me? Because you already had it!"

"Don't be stupid, Elena," he sneers.

"Well, that's all you seemed to care about today at the Lockwood's," I snap. "Not being _honest_, or telling me about Jeremy."

I advance on him, pointing at him with a finger I wish was sharp enough to cut.

"You had one goal in mind and that was it."

"Don't be a hypocrite," he scoffs.

"If anyone's a hypocrite, it's you."

"You were in every one of those damn rooms with me," he says louder and takes a step forward so he's towering over me. "I don't remember hearing you saying 'Damon, stop. Damon don't.' In fact, if I remember correctly, it was your leg wrapped around my fucking waist while you were saying how bad you needed me."

"Screw you!" I shriek enraged. "And if I didn't say anything maybe that's 'cause your tongue was down my throat, conveniently distracting me from that fact that you were lying!"

"Fucking get over yourself, Elena. You don't get to make me the bad guy for this. Not this time."

"I'll do whatever I damn well please, and you won't stop me!"

"By all means, Princess," he bows mockingly and turns back around to fill his glass. "Do whatever the fuck you want."

"I will."

"Yeah, wouldn't be the first time…" he mumbles.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he mutters and shoots his drink.

"Just spit it out, Stef-"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" he screams, slamming his glass on the counter so hard that I hear each grain and pop of the splintering crack.

Neither of us moves.

Maybe I'm shrinking, it feels like it, but mostly it seems like he's growing taller with every breath he's not taking.

I'm quivering in residual anger and swelling remorse, my hand clasped over my mouth in horror and watching him tremble in rage.

The silence between us is deafening, the only sound in the house now the swinging pendulum of the clock in the hallway.

Back and forth, over and over, it carves air with molded metal and a locked speed that never falters.

It's a steady ticking chime, counting the space between the before and the after.

"Damon, I'm so sorry…" I whisper.

"I am not Stefan!" He rounds on me and I flinch, the words pouring out of me before I can think to stop them.

"Then stop acting like him!"

"Fuck this," he snaps, striding from the room without looking at me.

"Where are you going?"

I wait to hear the front door slam, but it doesn't.

I know that I need to go after him, that I need to fix this before it's too late. But I'm stuck and I can't seem to make myself move.

He's absolutely silent, and I can't hear where he is in the house.

"To change," his voice says from upstairs. "If we're going to go another ten rounds I'm not doing it dressed like this."

He slams Ric's door and I wince at the echo.

Please, let that door be the only thing that just closed between us.

* * *

**A/N: *ducking from angry readers* Okay guys, I know that was a little angry/angsty, but we can't have 'em all be unicorns and rainbows, right? Hello? Anybody still there? If you are, please hang around because the next couple of chapters will be looking up. Because we are now past the pageant (*JUMPS UP AND DOWN*), and WE ALL KNOW what happens after the pageant. Ya? Whoop whoop! Thanks to all for reading, following and reviewing, y'all are awesome. **

**-Goldnox**


	8. Searching for Secrets

**A/N: Well hello pumpkins! Can I just say that you guys rock? Like seriously? The response has been incredible, and I really, really thank you.**

**Many thanks to the incomparable Trogdor19, for beta'ing with always much kindness and enthusiasm. **

**Episode point of reference: So we be hanging in the land of sans canon, btwn the pageant of half-horror and the fireplace of gloriousness. Elena just threw an apocalyptic hissy fit that Damon didn't tell her about Jeremy, then made the dumbest mistake ever to be made when fighting: calling your man-jam by your ex's name. Oops. All is a little tense in Delena land, let's see what we can do about that. ;) Enjoy!**

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

**Searching for Secrets**

I hang my suit up in Ric's closet and turn off the light.

This is such total bullshit.

I got what?

I check the clock.

Like three hours of being with her before I'm the bad guy for shit my brother did and now I'm getting yelled at and blamed? And being called his fucking name? Way over the line.

And I know she's mad because I didn't tell her, but I didn't fucking lie.

She asked if I found Jeremy, and I did. All I said was that he wasn't drunk, which he wasn't.

She said she couldn't deal with anything else right then, so I waited.

Fucking _excuse me_ for trying to keep her from having a full out panic attack in public, and choosing to wait to tell her what happened until I knew more and could figure out a plan to fix it and…

Fuck.

I do sound like Stefan.

That's exactly what he did.

And that's how he lost her.

He chose what she could know and decided what she could handle and I've never done that.

That's why she trusts me.

Or did.

Damn it.

I open the closed door I slammed and leave Ric's room behind, heading towards Elena's.

Her door is open.

I stop and lean against the frame, silently watching her.

She's sitting at her vanity, looking at a picture in her hands. Her shoulders are shaking, and she's not making any sound, but she's clearly crying.

I really hate it when she cries.

I step inside and go stand behind her.

She doesn't say anything, and neither do I.

I glance at the picture and suppress a sigh. It's Jeremy, young and laughing and free.

It must have been from before, when their parents were alive and doting on them and the worst thing in their world was the bickering over what to do on family game night.

Now they don't even have enough relatives to put together a decent poker game. It's down to "Go Fish" or "Solitaire" for the Gilberts.

There's nothing I can do to erase what's happened, not anymore. I can bury headless hybrids, but I can't delete the swing of the cleaver that fell in his hands. I can't remove the tattoo that's crawling up his arm, threatening to morph not only his body, but his mind.

I tried to stop it, but I couldn't.

Sometimes, there's nothing that can be done but just stand back and let the chips fall. To hope that when the dust finally settles that there will be one or two pieces left over big enough for you to still hold on to.

She thinks there isn't. I know there will be.

We've overcome more than I ever expected we would have to, and we always find a way. We'll find a light for Jeremy too, but it won't be today or probably tomorrow.

We'll figure it out, but sitting in her room and crying isn't going to solve anything. We need to keep moving forward, and she needs to be strong for her brother. If she doesn't believe he can be saved, he never will.

"Elena…"

"Just let me cry, damn it," she snaps at me, her voice broken. "Don't tell me everything is going to be fine, and don't you dare try to make me laugh or make everything better. Just don't."

Her eyes find mine in the mirror and she's actually worrying me. I've only ever seen her like this a few times before, and it's never ended well.

"If you can't deal with it then you can go downstairs, or leave. But so help me God, I am going to cry and you are going to let me."

I don't argue. I hand her my handkerchief instead.

"Thank you," she sighs so softly I barely hear her.

I move to her side, crouching down next to her. She's changed her clothes but her hair is still braided, hanging over her shoulder and creating a point of pressure where it starts. Very gently I take it in my hands, removing the tie at the bottom.

She glances down at me as I work my fingers through it, unraveling the twists and layers she wove so beautifully. Her eyes are sparkling with tears, and a few are running down her cheeks, but she's not really crying anymore. She mostly looks confused like she doesn't understand what I'm doing.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

I offer her a half smile and continue to undo the mess that's on her shoulder.

"But I'm still mad at you," she says softly.

"I know. I was mad at you too," I say at the same volume, but my tone is tender.

"I don't understand," she says and wrinkles her forehead.

"Why I was mad?"

"No," she sniffles again, "that I understand."

I reach the top of her braid and unwind the hair she has wrapped around the band before slipping it out. I run my fingertips through the loose and wavy strands, and they're a little tangled. She must have put some kind of product in it. I don't know what it is, but it's a little rough and grimy and Elena's hair is always so soft.

"Then what's the problem?" I ask quietly, pushing her hair over her shoulder so it's cascading freely down her back.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Just let it go like it's no big deal that I was screaming at you? And now, you're being all _sweet _again."

I chuckle a bit.

"Scoot over," I tell her and she does, making just enough room for me to sit on her bench so I'm facing her, my back to her mirror. "I'm older, Elena. I've spent a lot of time carrying grudges, and it doesn't pan out well. Trust me."

"Are you trying to tell me not to be mad at you for lying to me? Because it's not going to work."

"Nope, not saying that at all. And I didn't lie."

She rolls her eyes.

"I didn't tell you everything, and there's a difference. You don't always tell me everything either."

"You're really going to try and turn this back around on me?"

"Nope, not doing that either. All I'm saying is everyone has secrets, and they have their reasons for keeping them. Some are bigger than others. It doesn't make it right, but it doesn't necessarily make them lies either."

"Sometimes, I really hate you when you say things like that," she sniffles and wipes at her eyes.

"More than okay with that," I smile.

She raises her eyebrow and cocks her head at me, her sarcastic "really?" all over her face but she doesn't say it.

"Anger does not erase love."

Her expression softens and she lays a hand on my cheek, and I know she's thinking about all the years Stefan and I loathed each other. We're still at odds more than we aren't and no matter how hard we cling to it, the hatred fails every single time. And that knowledge is sometimes the only hope I have when it comes to my brother.

I weave my fingers through hers and bring them down to my lips, pressing a kiss over the scar on the heel of her hand.

"See? What did I tell ya?" I smirk and she pulls her hand away to smack me on the shoulder.

"Ass…"

"Mm-hmm," I nod and kiss her cheek before going to her bathroom.

I grab a hand towel and roll it, laying it on the edge of her sink. I gather her shampoo and conditioner and another towel as well, setting them all on her counter before I go back into her room.

She hasn't moved, still staring at the picture of her brother with her chin propped in her hand. I take my place behind her, resting my hands on her shoulders and squeezing lightly.

"Come on," I say and nod towards the bathroom, but she doesn't look up.

"Where are we going?" she grumbles.

"To Greece. You can cry there too, they just love it. All about the drama."

"Damon..."

"To the bathroom, Elena. Nothing scary, and you really are free to cry if you want. Promise," I smile.

She huffs, but sets the picture down.

It's a start.

"What's in the bathroom?" she mumbles and stands, not resisting as I lead her forward with a hand on her back.

"I've heard tales of running water, but don't quote me on that."

She tries to glare at me, but the corner of her mouth is turned up.

Almost there.

"Come on, up you go," I say and lift her so she's sitting on the counter in front of me.

"Damon," she says quietly while I start the hot water in the sink.

"Hmm?"

She waits until I'm looking at her before she places her hand on my chest, and it nearly burns.

"I don't want secrets between us."

Damn it.

_You are going to fix this. _

_You are not going to repeat his mistakes. _

"Some secrets are fun, Elena," I wink. "We have secrets."

"That's different," she blushes. "Those are things we both know. I just…"

"I know," I tell her gently, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll make you a deal. You lie down, let me wash this gunk out of your hair, and if you're a very good girl and cooperate, you can ask me anything you want."

"And you're just going to tell me anything I want to know?" she says sounding a little skeptical, and if I'm honest, a little excited.

"I'll be good if you will," I shrug, then point at her. "But no blabbing."

"Right. _Damon Salvatore, International Man of Mystery_," she says rolling her eyes and swinging her legs up to position herself.

"And don't you forget it," I tell her, cupping the back of her neck and lowering her down until she's resting on the towel and her hair is pooling in the sink.

Her eyes are closed as I trickle water over the strands and begin to work it through, taking care to keep it off her face.

"Is the water too hot?"

"No, it feels good."

"Good."

She's quiet and relaxed as I begin to shampoo, massaging her scalp and listening to her slow, even breaths.

"One fish, two fish…"

"Shut up, I'm thinking," she half-smiles, her eyes still closed. "Okay, I have a question," she says after another minute.

"Shoot."

"What's your birthday?"

"You gonna ask me my sign next?" I laugh.

"If you answer truthfully, I won't have to."

"You're not going to believe me anyways. Isn't there something else you'd rather know?"

"Birthday," she scowls, looking up at me.

"Fine," I sigh. "Same as yours."

"What?" she gasps, trying to sit up.

"Easy," I laugh, holding her still.

"You're right, I don't believe you."

I roll my eyes and dig in my back pocket, taking out my wallet and tossing it onto her chest before I rinse out her hair. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she opens it, studying my license and running her fingertips over the numbers as if they weren't real until she could feel them.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asks quietly.

"Didn't matter."

"Matters to me. We could've done something…"

"We did do something. As I recall, Blondie filled my house with a horde of teenagers not shy about guzzling my booze."

"Oh my God, Damon…"

Yep. She just put it together.

"It's okay, Elena."

"How could he do that to you? On your birthday?"

"Fair is fair."

"What are you talking about? Fair is…" she fades off, then gets it. "Lexi," she sighs.

"Yep. What's done is done, no point in getting all worked up about it now," I smile gently, flicking a bit of water at her. "Next question."

"Damon!" she shrieks, wiping at her face then fixing a glare on me. "Two wrongs do not make a right, and this conversation is _so_ not over."

"That one is, yes. Now, you gonna ask me something else or do I get to revoke your question privileges?"

"Whatever."

"That wasn't a question," I sing-song and focus on massaging the conditioner deeper, her eyes closing again and heart rate eventually slowing under my touch.

"Why is black your favorite color?" she asks a minute later.

"Who said it was?"

"It's practically all you wear."

"Convenient. Hides blood better."

"Fine," she sighs, then tilts her head back to see me better. "Any colors you hate?"

"Green," I smirk at her.

"Damon, that's mean," she scolds, and I shrug. "Whatever, you're lying. 'Anger does not erase love,' remember?"

"I knew that was gonna bite me in the ass," I wince and she reaches down to slap my leg before she returns to my wallet, digging through and inspecting the assortment of credit cards and all the other crap I have in there.

"What's this?" She grins at me knowingly and holds up a faded piece of paper. I lean forward and act like I'm looking at it closely, but I already know exactly what she found.

"Mine."

"Damon…" she pouts. "Tell me why you have a receipt from Bree's bar?"

"Couldn't say, must have got put in there by accident," I wink and she beams.

Finally.

"But this is from when _we_ went there."

"Is it now?" I ask and begin rinsing out her hair.

"You're supposed to be answering my questions, and all you're doing is dodging."

"Reflex."

"Well, knock it off. Why do you have this?"

I don't say anything, just smiling at her as I turn off the water and squeeze out the excess.

"Up," I tell her and help her sit up, holding her hair away from her clothes and wrapping a towel around the ends.

She's studying my face as I stand between her legs, pretending to focus on drying her hair as best I can. I finish and step away to hang up the damp cloth, coming back to her and taking my disarray of a wallet. She's quiet as I hold out my hand for the receipt, and she places it gently in my palm before I refold it and slip it back into its home.

"Was this when…" she fades off softly, blushing a bit as she peeks up at me from under her eyelashes.

"When…?"

"When it changed?" She flushes deeper and looks down, tucking her wet hair behind her ear. "I mean-"

"I know what you meant, Elena."

I've been waiting for months for her to ask me this. When I went from seeing her as a pawn to something more, if it was before or after I found out Katherine wasn't in the tomb, if that's what made a difference.

And the truth is, I don't know.

I remember her constantly surprising me and being unquestioningly drawn to her.

I remember being scared that I would attack her when she was bleeding in the nurse costume she wore on Halloween. Her blood was so potent, so intoxicating. But even with my switch off, I still couldn't keep myself from going to her house to make sure she got home okay.

And then we were in Georgia, and it was different. She was fun, easy company. And for the first time in years, I felt something change. I didn't recognize it right away; I didn't remember what it felt like. But I think that it was somewhere on the way home, when we were taking turns making each other laugh by belting out songs on the radio that my switch flipped.

It had to have been.

Because after that was the first of the ridiculous Decade Dances, and I was ready to do whatever it took to make sure she was safe. I was still searching for Katherine, but Elena was already special, more important than any other human I had ever come across.

Everything just got infinitely more complicated from there.

Katherine wasn't where she was supposed to be.

Stefan went off the rails.

Elena and I danced.

Isobel even said it, but I still wasn't sure yet.

Then I kissed her, or at least, thought I did.

That was when I knew that I loved her.

But when it actually happened, I still can't be sure.

But Bree's, that's when it started. I'm sure of it.

"That was the first of many changes," I tell her softly.

"So it wasn't…" she stops and takes my hands, coaxing them up in front of us by tickling her nails on my palms before turning hers over, winding her fingers between mine. "It wasn't one thing?"

"That's not how it works, Elena," I smile and lean forward slowly, gauging her response.

She doesn't pull away, so I press my lips to hers with all the gentleness I can.

Her hands leave mine and rest on my neck, holding me to her strong enough that I know she wants me close to her.

It's an apology for both of us, silently agreeing to move past the harsh words and accusations we flung at each other under the strain of stress and fear.

We separate and I rest my forehead to hers, a little dazed under the relief I hadn't realized I'd been missing.

I've been forgiven.

"Tell me another secret," she whispers with a grin.

"I love that you haven't been wearing underwear under those little shorts you tempt me with when I stay the night."

"That's not a secret," she laughs.

"Fine. I hate your teddy bear."

"What?!" She leans back and acts offended, but it's entirely undercut by her smile and the feeling of her hands starting to play with the hair at the base of my neck. "How could you hate Babar?"

"Babar?" I grin. "Shouldn't he be Mr. Snuggles or something?"

"It was from a show I watched as a kid," she shrugs.

"Wasn't that an elephant though?"

"Well, I didn't have an elephant. I had a bear."

"That's just ridiculous," I snort and shake my head at her, trailing my fingertips up her arms and placing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

"Why do you hate him?" she pouts.

"Because the fucker's always trying to steal my spot," I tell her and she bursts out in giggles.

"Well, he says the same about you."

"So we're talking to the bear now, are we? You sure you don't need that psych eval?"

"Shut up," she tries to scowl and doesn't get far. "Tell me another one."

"Hmm," I cock my head and think, grazing my fingertips up the side of her thigh.

"Oh wait, I have one," she chuckles and I'm just waiting for the "when did you lose your virginity" question which I'd really rather not answer. "You had horses when you were human, right?"

"Yes, Elena. We had horses," I roll my eyes and she just laughs harder.

"What was your horse's name?"

"Seriously?" I whine, because I already know that she is never going to let this go.

"Yep. Let me guess," she says and lays a finger over her lips like she's seriously contemplating this. Which is nothing short of fucking adorable. "Buttercup? Snookems? Snuggle-poo?"

"Maybe it was Axe Murderer," I say and tickle her side.

"But it wasn't though, was it?" she says smugly and I groan because I'm never getting out of this.

"No blabbing, remember?" I point at her and she nods. "Fine. Water Lily," I say and smile. "Lil."

"Aww," she croons. "You had a girl horse?"

"A mare, yes."

"Was she pretty?"

"Yes."

"Figures," she smirks. "Why did you name her Water Lily?"

"You know, you're getting kind of nosy, Gilbert," I tease and tap the tip of her nose.

"I'm allowed," she says confidently.

"Says who?"

"You."

I roll my eyes because she's right, I told her she could ask.

And she's still smiling, not crying over her brother.

Not throwing me out of her house for keeping things from her.

I wonder if Ric ever did this stuff with Jenna. Or Isobel for that matter. Maybe just answering their questions was the secret.

"It's fine, Damon. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she shrugs and looks down.

Aw fuck it.

"You really want to know?" I ask and she nods. "Okay. Animal was practically a fish," I say and she smiles. "Creeks, rivers, couldn't keep her out of them. And the one behind our house was filled with frogs in the summer. I think she had some sort of truce with them, because she'd wade in and just stand there for hours and they'd eventually settle on the lily pads around her and she would shade them. Hence, Water Lily."

If I blink once, I can still see all the days that I would ride in with her, me on her bare back and my hands braided in her mane as she took the first careful steps off the bank until the water supported us. We swam nearly every day, soaking in the sun and listening to the wind, reveling in the calm and the quiet. It was our sanctuary, our secret freedom.

"Was she your favorite?" Elena asks gently, looking up at me with those big brown eyes like I'm the only thing in her world that she wants to see.

Hell, if I had known she'd look at me like this, I would have told her this a year ago.

"First girl I ever loved," I smile and she melts a little bit more.

She bites her bottom lip and I know she wants to ask, but she's probably weighing her curiosity versus how much she thinks it'll upset me.

I frown and tug on her lip and she releases it, blushing as I smooth it over with my thumb.

"It's okay. You can ask me," I assure her.

"What happened to her?"

"Horses don't live to be 170, Elena," I smile gently.

"Were you with her, when it happened?"

I shake my head. "I was at war, honey."

"Damon…"

"It's okay," I promise. "And it was a long time ago."

But it doesn't feel like it. I can still see Stefan's face as he told me when I arrived home on leave, how his face fell when I asked him if he wanted to go riding. For hours I stayed in the place that was her home, breathing in the hay and wishing I had been by her side. She must have been so scared and confused when I wasn't there with her.

When I eventually wiped my face clean and went back to the house to join Stefan and Father in the library, that's when I first saw her. She looked up from her book and smiled at me, chocolate curls and brown eyes, the face of an angel disguising a fiend.

"But still…" she frowns and stares at the buttons on my shirt like she's concentrating, her forehead wrinkling a bit.

Her brow relaxes and a smile tugs at her lips, looking back up at my face with determination.

Uh-oh.

"Teach me?" she asks and I cock my head in question. "To ride."

"No need," I smirk and squeeze her hip. "You've already got the basics down."

"Damon!" she blushes and I can't help but laugh with her because she really does make it too easy.

"Hey, I'm not saying no. I'm all for seeing you dressed in a cowboy hat and boots and brandishing a whip. In fact, I say we go practice your technique right now," I say with a flare of my eyes.

"Oh my God," she giggles. "You're the worst!"

"You can't deny my idea sounds a hell of a lot better than suffering through another replay of _My Fair Lady._"

"Oh whatever, you love that movie," she beams. "And don't act like you don't know all the words."

"Not by choice," I scowl playfully.

"Besides, at least there's eye candy. You can't deny that Audrey Hepburn was hot."

I grin just a little too much and I'm probably about two seconds from being busted.

One…

"You didn't!" she laughs, looking almost awed and thankfully not the least bit jealous.

"What? You said it, she was hot. And she was a feisty little minx, much more _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ than _Sabrina_."

"Did you ever date Bette Midler?"

"Red? Nah, not my type," I say with a wrinkle of my nose.

"Good. Because we're watching _Gypsy_," she declares proudly.

"Fine with me, at least that one's about stripping."

"_Gypsy_ is not about stripping!"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but the moral of the story is that all of your problems are solved by telling your parents to fuck off and taking off your clothes for money."

"That is not what it's about," she protests.

"Oh yeah? What's it about then?"

"I…it's…"

"Mm-hmm."

"It's not about stripping!"

"_Let me, entertain you. Let me, make you smile_," I sing quiet and deep, rolling my shoulders and hips and popping open a button on my shirt.

Elena's eyes are fixed on my lips, her legs getting tighter around my waist by the second. I pull her forward so I can press harder against her, and she gasps at the contact.

"_And if you're real good, I'll make you feel good. I-_"

I'm stopped as she wrenches my mouth to hers, her tongue tasting my bottom lip and her hands already deftly working on undoing the rest of the buttons down the front of my shirt.

Three cheers for the stripper musical.

* * *

**A/N: So...yay! A little more cheery than this week's Delena horror of an episode Pictures of You, which broke my heart. Hope this helps to cheer, and stay tuned because...yeah. Much fun to be had. *big grins* Thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	9. Save A Horse, Ride A Vampire

**A/N: Okay lovelies, here we have the next chapter! Yay! Um, I don't know if I've mentioned this, but you guys are AMAZING. **

**Massive thanks to Trogdor19, THE ULTIMATE BETA!**

**Episode point of reference: We be hanging in non-canon land still, btwn the Pageant of Carnage and Kisses and The Boarding House o' Dancing and Smut. But, we're getting closer folks! Enjoy!**

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

**Save A Horse, Ride A Vampire**

I'm lost in a labyrinth of Damon, my hands on his chest and his in my hair and nothing should feel as good as this kiss, especially after the crapfest of last few hours.

But I shouldn't be surprised. He always makes me feel better, even when I tell him not to.

I can't believe he didn't leave me after I screamed at him, after I called him his brother's name. He was furious, but he stayed.

And he talked to me, sweetly washing my hair in the sink and patiently letting me ask him whatever I wanted because he knows I can't live with the secrets and the lies.

That's what Stefan did. It was reality on his terms, and only when he decided I could have it.

Damon's never done that, he's always been brutally honest with me.

That's why this hurt so much, and he knew it.

But what's better is, he _fixed_ it_._

And that's why my legs are wrapped around him, pulling him towards me with an urgency I can't sate.

I unbuttoned his shirt but I couldn't get it off before his arms were crushing me to him, holding me with the need he only ever lets his body express.

I move my hands to his shoulders, pushing the fabric back as far as I can. His hands release me but his mouth doesn't as he shrugs out of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He comes back fiercely, his fingers in my hair and tilting my head so his mouth is free to move to my jaw.

His lips touch behind my earlobe just before I hear it, his words so quiet I never would have caught them if he wasn't breathing them so close.

"I'm sorry…"

My eyes open. Damon never apologizes unless he absolutely means it.

And he didn't have to say it, I know that he is and I'm not mad anymore.

But maybe he needed to say it. For him.

I pull his lips back to mine, winding my arms around his neck as tight as I can.

"So am I," I press into his mouth and I could swear I felt him tremble, but it must have been me.

I forget my thoughts as he touches my skin, his hands sliding under my shirt and caressing their way up my sides and back. I need to feel his warmth, more, everywhere, so I lift my arms and he doesn't hesitate in slipping my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the floor with his.

I yelp and jump as my wet hair hits my back and Damon instantly backs off, stepping away and throwing up his hands by his shoulders like he's surrendering.

"Where are you going?" I laugh.

"What?" he asks, and he looks so confused that I can't help but chuckle again.

"Hair," I explain and gesture to my back. "Cold, wet, kinda takes a girl by surprise," I grin.

He's not moving or speaking and looking utterly dazed.

"Damon, come here…" I tell him gently and hold my hand out to him.

He takes it and his smile comes back, stepping back towards me.

"What was that?" I quietly tease, brushing the hair off his forehead and away from his eyes.

"Yeah, I have no idea," he admits and shakes his head at himself.

"Well, relax. It's just me," I whisper and smile. "But if it makes you uncomfortable, I guess we don't _have _to have make-up sex. We could just snuggle or something…" I shrug innocently and try not to laugh. "Play make-up Monopoly."

His eyes flare and darken, his hands grabbing my hips and tugging me closer to him.

"Elena," he says and pulls a kiss from my lips. "Don't even joke about shit like that."

"Aww come on, I thought it was pretty funny."

"Hilarious," he growls and my giggle cuts off into a moan when he sweeps my hair to the side and bites my neck with blunt teeth.

"_OhmyGod_, that feels good," I mumble as his tongue teases my vein.

He guides my arms around his neck and lifts me from the counter, his hand supporting my bottom and squeezing it at the same time as he carries me.

I don't know how he gets us back to my bed without bumping into anything because I'm kissing him hungrily, my tongue demanding in my need for him. But Damon always keeps me safe, and he lays me down carefully on my comforter before he lets go.

He doesn't go far, his hands and mouth exploring down my chest and stomach and reacquainting himself with my body. It feels incredible to be back in this place of freedom just as we were the night of the memorial, giving all of myself to him without fear or restraint. No boundaries, no guilt. Just us.

I've missed it, I've needed it.

I'll never get enough.

He bites at my hip and makes fast work of the button and zipper on my jeans, not going torturously slow like he did last time. Thank God.

He smirks as he stands and yanks, struggling to get my pants off. I can't help but snicker while I wiggle and squirm, trying to help him get me naked that much faster.

"Why are your jeans always so damn tight?" he laughs and finally tosses them to the floor, running his palms up my legs from ankle to thigh.

"To torment you," I wink, though he probably didn't see while he was busy trailing kisses up my calf.

"It's working," he grumbles against the inside of my knee and cups my bottom, which is nice and bare thanks to the lace strip of my thong.

I grab at his arms and haul him up over me, not willing to wait for any amount of foreplay because I need him inside me. Now.

We can play later.

His mouth finds mine and so do his hips, but I realize with a groan that he still has his damn pants on. I push at his shoulders and he rolls us like I wanted, settling me astride him with a low rumble.

I sit up and rock my hips once, and as veins flare around his eyes I get an idea.

Maybe we can play a little…

I lean forward to kiss him and he moans at the friction, his mouth shifting from sharp to soft as he struggles to stay in control.

"Stay," I whisper and pull back.

"Where are you going?" he complains as I extricate his hands from my hips and leave the bed, giving him a full view of my back and all the revealed skin below.

"I'll be right back," I smirk over my shoulder as I make my way to the door, and I'm proud to see that his eyes are glued to my ass. I doubt he even heard what I said.

I turn around and keep backing out of the room, and when he finally draws his gaze from my breasts to my face I repeat my earlier instructions.

"Stay there…"

"Gilbert, you are without a doubt the biggest tease I have ever met in my entire life," I hear him say as I make my way down the hallway.

"You can't be a tease if you make it worth the wait," I tell him and head into Jenna's room, listening to him chuckle softly from my bed.

It doesn't take me long to find it tucked away in her closet. Jenna was crazy about Halloween and any reason to dress up a bit, and this was one of her favorite things to wear. Not to mention she knew she looked sexy in it, which is the real reason I think she went as a cowgirl three years in a row.

I go to the mirror and put on the hat, pulling it low in the front and arranging my hair until I'm satisfied. Quick adjustment of my bra and panties and I'm ready to go.

This ought to wipe that smirk off his face.

I silently walk back to my room and my hips are swinging a little more than usual, confidence and the knowledge of a beautiful, waiting man in my bed giving them the courage to flaunt it.

It doesn't mean that my heart's not racing, because it is, or that I'm not going to probably blush like crazy the second he sees me, because I will. But I can't help myself, if I can get his jaw to hit the floor it will make my whole year.

When I get to my doorway he's lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling with an arm behind his head on the pillow and one of his knees propped up.

Why is he still wearing pants? Whatever, I'll take care of that in a minute.

I place a hand on my hip and cock my opposite knee so my legs are pressed together, all my curves on full display.

Show time.

"Howdy," I drawl.

His gaze turns to me followed quickly by his whole head, his eyes wide and jaw slacking an inch.

He's completely frozen. Absolute, glorious success.

I smile as he takes it all in, his stare licking up my body.

"Hi," he grins and it's his Devil smile.

My pulse surges; I love that freaking smile. It's so deliciously dirty.

He doesn't startle as I take a small step and then blur onto the bed, standing over him with my feet planted on either side of his hips. His hand strokes my ankle and it sends shivers through me, but it's nothing compared to what his eyes are doing.

He watches ravenously as I raise a wicked eyebrow and begin to swirl my hips, running my hands over myself and rolling my whole body while I dance slow and seductive over him. He's never seen me do this and I take my time, grinding down until I'm finally seated against his steel cock.

His chest is rising more and more quickly under the shallow breaths I'm pretending to ignore, but he has to know that I can hear and feel his racing heart even though he_ is_ doing a fairly good job of controlling his expression. Good for him.

Let's see him control _this._

I lean forward so my breasts are in danger of spilling out of my lace cups, stopping only when my lips are within a whisper of his.

"Yippie-ki-yay, baby," I purr.

He growls and surges up, his mouth crashing against mine.

He moves to roll us so I'm under him, but instead of going left where the rest of the bed is, he forgets and rolls right.

"Oh fuck!" he hisses as I slip from his grip and crash to the floor, landing flat on my back and knocking the breath out of me. "Elena, are you ok?" he rushes out, sliding off the bed so he's kneeling astride me, looking me over with so much worry you'd think I was in a car wreck or something.

"I'm…fine…" I sputter out between gasping breaths and bursts of stomach-clenching laughter. "But I never would have tried that if I'd known you were gonna buck me off."

"Hey, you can't blame me for being distracted after your little rodeo show," he grins.

"Fine, I'll never do it again," I tease and pull his mouth down to mine, kissing his pouted lips.

"You're so mean to me."

"You threw me off the bed," I laugh.

"No, I didn't," he scoffs. "I just forgot where the rest of the bed was."

"Uh-huh."

"You're gonna hold this over me forever, aren't you?" he asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Yep," I grin and he bares his fangs at me, but his eyes are perfectly clear. I don't even try to contain my laugh, or sarcasm. "Ooh, scary…"

"Get back on the bed and I'll show you scary," he says and pretends to attack me, growling and nipping at my neck with blunt teeth which tickles like crazy.

"I think I'd rather stay down here. Where it's safer," I giggle.

"Scaredy cat," he whispers.

"Bronco."

He pulls away from my throat and hovers over my lips, his eyes flickering with glacial intensity and cutting off whatever was funny a minute ago, sliding it straight into desire.

"Stallion," he purrs and this time it's me that rushes up, tongues and teeth clashing in urgency.

He moans as I grab at his shoulders, raking my nails down his back and using his belt loops to tug at his hips.

I can't touch enough of his skin and I need more of him, closer, his weight pressed against me and his length buried inside me, but he already knows. I know he needs it too.

His arm slips under me so my head is supported, lowering himself so he's lying along my side and drawing my far knee up so my foot is planted to the floor. His hand is deliciously greedy, caressing and squeezing its way from my breast to my hip and I part my thighs for him, inviting his touch.

He smiles against my mouth, walking his fingertips under the lace front of my panties and I tremble eagerly, his kisses trailing to my neck as he slowly pets my manicured strip of curls with his thumb. I bring my knee up further, opening myself more and tilting my hips up towards him, but he doesn't go any lower.

"Please," I whisper.

"Please what?"

His breath is hot on my jaw, his voice deep and rumbling through his chest. I arch back and bury my hands in his hair, holding him to me and praying he'll bite.

"Touch me…"

His arm under my neck pulls me in tighter and his other dips, a single finger entering me.

I gasp and he moans, curling his finger and brushing against my front wall.

My hips are thrusting against his strokes and I want him harder, deeper, faster.

I grip his neck, silently asking but he doesn't react, his pace steady.

"More," I pant and he slips another finger in me.

He stretches me gently, but I don't want gentle. It's been so long and I'm impatient for release.

His thumb grazes my clit and I quiver, my back bowing.

It doesn't happen.

He presses his thumb harder.

Nothing.

I don't understand…

Last time I came almost as soon as he touched me, and I need it to happen.

My muscles clench as I try to engage it, my eyes pinched shut as I cling to him fiercer.

_Come on…_

I push against his hand and it feels amazing, every part of me lit and aching but I know what the beginning of my orgasm feels like and it's just…not here.

He circles me again and I wait to feel it start…

Crap, this is a total disaster. How could this happen?

He has to be wondering why I'm not screaming yet.

He hasn't stopped but he always sees everything and he has to know something's off.

I could fake it, but I won't. He'd know.

I rock harder and he nudges my clit again, but I'm further away from release than ever.

God, I'm so humiliated.

I'm probably the only girl this has ever happened to with him.

I let out a huff of frustration and he stops, pulling out and resting his hand on my hip.

"Hey, it's okay," he whispers.

I turn into him so I can bury my face in his neck, hiding in my mortification.

"I'm sorry."

"Uh-uh, none of that," he sooths placing light kisses to my hair. "Talk to me, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"I don't know…everything."

"Then you're thinking too much. You're stressed, Elena, that's all," he says warmly.

"Well, I don't know how to stop," I grumble, turning away from him and throwing my arm over my face.

This has to be the most embarrassing thing to happen in my life. Ever.

But he never lets me run or hide and he pulls my arm away, turning me back to him and pressing his lips to mine.

"Do you trust me?" he breathes against my mouth and I nod. "Then don't fight for it, and it'll happen on its own."

He pulls back and I open my eyes to look at him, and he doesn't look the least bit nervous or upset.

He just looks like he loves me.

His fingertips are trailing from my hip down to the back of my thigh and it feels wonderful, but if we try again and it doesn't happen, I don't know what I'll do. I don't know what he'll think…

"Can you feel my hand?" he asks quietly.

"Of course I can..."

"Good," he smiles. "Now, I want you to close your eyes and focus on my touch and when I move, I want you to tell me where I am."

"Damon..."

I honestly have no idea why he thinks _me_ talking dirty to _him_, or whatever this is, is going to help this situation.

"Humor me," he grins and I will, but it doesn't stop me from rolling my eyes before I close them.

His hand leaves my leg and for a moment I can't feel him, then a single finger trails a line from my ear to my collarbone. I shiver.

"Where am I?" he whispers.

"My neck."

"Good," he says with gentle praise.

He lightly drags the same finger down between my breasts and stops.

"Freckle…" I say quietly, and I can't help but remember him touching me like this in his bathtub. My hips roll at the thought of how he looked when I turned and sunk myself down on him, riding him in the water.

"Mm-hmm."

He moves but stays on the same path, perfectly centered between my ribs. He stops again and I smile.

"Stomach."

"That's kinda vague," he says softly, but I can hear the grin in his voice.

"Belly button," I blush and he sweeps his thumb over it.

"Much better."

My pulse has been steadily racing, but it takes off without restraint when I wonder if he's going to go back between my legs. I can't even think about saying that word out loud. Not to him. But when he reaches the top of my underwear, he follows them around to my side before he pauses.

I blow out a breath and try to gain control because my heart is _pounding_.

"Hip…"

He skirts his nails over my bottom and around to the back of my thigh and I tremble, his hand coming to rest behind my knee.

"We have got to get you more panties like this," he mutters and I can't help but smile.

"Knee," I say with a soft laugh.

His touch is light and slow as he moves back towards my center, teasing the inside of my thigh.

My chest is heaving and it's practically impossible to keep still, but he doesn't go any further than halfway between my knee and panties.

"Thigh," I murmur.

"Good," he says and then his lips are against mine.

His kiss is soft and tender, soothing yet passionate. I have no idea how he kisses like that.

"Ready?" he breathes and my heart stutters I'm so turned on.

"Yes," I answer and I feel his mouth press against me once more.

I'm distracted from his tongue as he shifts my panties to the side, cold air reaching between my legs. He slides one finger across me and I suck in a breath.

"Feel good?"

"Mm-hmm," I mumble and bite my bottom lip.

His tongue lightly touches the place where my teeth are cutting into me and I release it with a smile. He hates it when I bite my lip.

He pushes a long finger into me and we moan together.

"Where am I?" he asks quietly.

"Inside me," I breathe and I hear his heart speed up.

"I love feeling you get wet when I'm inside you," he whispers and I feel my whole chest turn red. "So sexy," he purrs and I feel another wet clench and release. "Hmm," he rumbles pleased, curling his finger.

My jaw relaxes and my lips part under my struggling breaths, and I realize my hips are rolling in harmony with his strokes.

He pets my front wall and my spine tingles.

"Feel that?"

"Mm-hmm…"

"More?"

"Yes…" I answer and he gives me another finger.

My eyes try to roll back and I arch, my grip on him tightening.

"Tell me what you feel," he says softly, stroking my sensitive spot again and my toes curl.

"It…it tingles."

"Where?"

"My legs…"

His thumb circles my clit and I gasp.

"Damon…"

"I know, tell me where."

"In my neck…" I stutter and swallow. "My shoulders…back," I pant.

He touches my clit and my whole body jerks.

"I love you, Elena," he whispers and presses again, climax ripping through me.

Every muscle in my body contracts and ignites, burns, explodes.

My foot slams the floor, my jaw locked open as I scream.

It feels like my back is going to break I'm bowed so tight.

It's strong, too strong…

I reach for something else to hold to, I don't want to hurt him. My arms search above me and I find the wood of my nightstand, groaning and cracking under my grip.

There's too much to feel, and I can't keep it inside.

It doesn't stop.

I can't take anymore, it _hurts._

I think something inside me snaps and I unfurl, carpet scraping skin and my voice disappearing into silence.

My throat feels raw, air scratching in and out.

My clit is throbbing and my legs are quivering, but I'm alive.

I listen and I can hear my heart pounding, or maybe it's Damon's. Maybe it's both. I can't be sure.

But it's loud.

I'm faintly aware of his arm under me, holding me up to him so my head is tucked under his chin.

I sniffle and realize my cheeks are wet.

Oh my God, I can't believe I started crying…

I didn't think that stuff really happened except in the movies.

I wipe at my face. He must think I'm such a spaz.

"Better?" he whispers, but he almost sounds worried.

"Yes," I choke out.

He's quiet as he sooths me, letting me settle.

I nuzzle into him, relishing in his breath washing over my hair.

"Elena, I'm going to ask you a question and I really want you to be honest with me, no matter what the answer is. Okay?"

I don't know what he wants to know but if he's asking in that voice, it's important.

I nod.

"When was your last orgasm?"

I pull back to look at him, because I can't believe he had the guts to ask me. I'm sure he thinks I'm going to say a few days ago, which would mean that I had slept with Stefan that recently. But I haven't, and he doesn't know that.

I don't want to talk to him about having sex with his brother, ever, but I have the feeling that if I don't rectify whatever ideas he has in his mind it could be a serious issue. For both of us.

"With you," I shrug and he looks skeptical. "That's it, Damon. Nothing since. Just you."

"Sweetheart, that's not possible," he shakes his head.

"Oh, yes it is," I say earnestly and I think he believes me, but he doesn't look happy about it.

"What's wrong?" I whisper, studying his narrow eyes and rumpled forehead. "I thought you'd be… I don't know. Relieved or something."

"Well," he cocks his head and smiles, "don't get me wrong. But… Elena, you have needs," he says sincerely and with a light squeeze to my hip. "You're a woman, and as a vampire… Blood is not the only thing that drives us."

"Tell me about it," I roll my eyes and he chuckles. "Oh, you think it's funny, do you?" I tease and push him onto his back so I can straddle him. "And when was your last orgasm, Salvatore?"

"Yesterday," he nods looking pleased with himself and lacing his hands behind his head.

I cock my head at him questioningly and he holds up his right hand before reaching across him and grabbing the hat that I lost, setting it back on my head with a grin.

"Well, doing…_that_…sucks," I say and he lets out a gust of laughter, his whole face lighting up.

"Tell me about it. Especially when the rodeo's in town."

"Keep it up, Salvatore," I warn and go after the ticklish spot on his stomach, making his abs tighten and jerk. "See if I ever dress up for you again."

"Does that mean there's more where this came from?" he asks with a flare of his eyes. "Naughty Nun? French maid?"

"Guess you'll never know," I say and pull my hat lower, jutting my chin out with a smirk.

"Come on, I'll be good. Promise."

"You've never been good a day in your life," I laugh.

"Not true. There was one day. I was four. You would've loved it."

"What?" I giggle but the sound gets interrupted by my phone dancing across the nightstand.

"Don't even think about it," he warns.

My nose wrinkles.

"Elena…" he groans with complaint.

"What if it's Jeremy?"

"Then he is quite capable of leaving a message."

"Damon…" I whine and he huffs a growl.

"If it's anyone else I'm breaking your phone and you're _not_ getting a new one."

"Then how are you going to call me?"

"Won't have to. I'm just gonna keep you in my pocket," he smiles.

"Smooth," I say and reach for my phone.

"I thought so."

"It's Matt."

"Fucking great," he sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Hey Matt, how's Jeremy?"

"_Better. We're at my house, just wanted to check in."_

I feel Damon's finger sneak under the cup of my bra, grazing the base of my breast. I slap him away and he scowls.

"Has anything happened?"

Damon starts stroking my stomach then goes for the front of my panties, pulling them back and tilting forward like he's peeking inside them.

"_Stop it,"_ I mouth to him and he shakes his head at me with a smirk.

"_No, he seems okay for now."_

"So hang up-" Damon starts and I cover his mouth with my hand, hopefully before Matt heard him.

He doesn't need to know what I'm doing right now, and it would be a lot easier if Damon wasn't distracting me by touching his tongue to my palm, which is weirdly hot.

"Thanks for letting me know, Matt. I really appreciate it. Are you gonna drop him off or do I need to come get him?"

Damon's eyes flare.

"_Elena, I think Jeremy should stay with me for a while. Just to be safe."_

"What?"

I sit back and pull my hand away from Damon's mouth. He doesn't say anything.

Jeremy stay with Matt? At Matt's house?

This is it.

I've driven out my entire family now.

"_Elena, I really think-"_

"Hold on," I tell him and look at Damon who's watching me closely.

I don't know how to ask this.

He takes my hand and presses it into his chest with both of his, nodding at me.

"_Thank you,"_ I mouth to him and he smiles.

"Matt, I really think Jeremy should be at home."

"_Elena, I don't think that's-" _

"So you should stay here. With him."

"_And where are you going to go?"_

"I can stay at the boarding house. It's fine."

"_Elena, are you sure you want to stay there? Isn't that a little…complicated?"_

"It's more important for Jeremy to be here. Please, Matt."

"_Okay, it's your call. How do you want to do this?"_

"I need time to pack, get things together. Can you keep him at your house for a little bit longer?"

"_Sure. What time do you think we can head over?"_

I check the clock.

"Give me until about seven. I should be gone by then."

"_Okay. Elena?"_

"Yeah…"

"_I'm sorry this happened."_

"Thanks, Matt. I'll talk to you later."

I hang up the phone, and suddenly feel very naked.

I stand up and toss it on my bed along with my stupid hat, pacing in a small circle.

I can't believe this is happening.

I stop and cross my arms, covering my face with one hand.

It feels like I should be crying, but I just don't know if I have anything left at this point.

I hear Damon get up off the floor and then a blanket surrounds my shoulders, followed by his arms. I turn around to wrap mine around his waist, and I end up pulling the blanket around both of us so we're cocooned together in red chenille.

"Elena," he says softly and places a light kiss to my hair. "Jeremy's a survivor. He's made it through more than this and he's not a little kid anymore. He's going to be fine."

"You can't promise me that," I shake my head. "You don't know that."

"No, I don't. But I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that he stays that way."

I nod.

"But here's the deal. We also need to keep you safe so you can be there for him. You did the right thing in letting Jeremy stay here. It's the best way keep him grounded to who he really is."

I nod again and wipe my eyes, brushing away the beginnings of tears as I take a breath and try to steady myself. I have a little brother that's relying on me and an angel of a man holding me. Both need me to be strong for them and neither will be okay if I'm constantly falling apart.

This all sucks so much, but it makes me feel a lot better to hear that Damon thinks I did the right thing. His plans work, so if this is what he thinks I should do, then I know I'm making the right decision. No matter how much it hurts.

"You're just saying that because you think I'm sleeping in your room," I mumble and his chest shakes in silent laughter. I tilt my head to look up at him and he smiles. "I want my own suite."

"Fine with me," he shrugs. "But then you're not allowed to wear clothes. House rules."

I smile, but it doesn't hold out long against the weight on my heart.

"Elena," he says softly without a hint of jest in his voice, "you know you can have your own room if you want. No one will bother you, and you can wear all the clothes and use as many blankets as you like."

"I'd love to see how long that would last," I say, rolling my eyes. "I can't keep you out of my room now."

"Hey, I told you to lock your window. But you never listen to me," he teases.

I squeeze him a little tighter and sigh.

"Today was supposed to be a good day."

"Eh," he shrugs. "Wasn't half bad. Buck up, cowgirl," he says and plops my hat back on. "Day ain't over yet."

"Are you going to make western jokes for the rest of the night?"

"Probably," he says with a flare of his eyes. "Unless you can find another way to shut me up."

"I bet I can think of something," I smile, peeking up at him from under my eyelashes.

"_Killing me_, Elena."

"Sorry," I whisper with a grin. "Guess I'll just have to make it up to you."

"I should," he stutters and clears his throat, "probably head out. Otherwise you're never getting packed, much less dressed," he smirks and lets me go, heading into the bathroom.

"You're leaving?"

"I need to go get my car," he says strolling back into the room and buttoning his shirt.

Yeah, right. I could easily drive him back to the Lockwood's after I'm ready, but instead he's giving me the privacy I won't ask for so I can pack alone. We both know I'm probably going to be crying the whole time. I don't like doing that in front of him, and he hates it when I'm upset.

"I can't believe I'm getting ditched for a car," I pout but smile enough that he knows I'm not mad.

"Yeah, but it's a bad ass car," he shrugs.

"Thanks a lot," I laugh and he takes my face in his hands.

"I want you to take as much time as you need," he says quiet and serious, "but if Jeremy shows up, you need to get out of the house immediately. Understand?"

"I will. I promise," I nod and he kisses me, having to turn his head more to the side than normal because of my hat.

I probably look like such a total dork right now, but I don't think he cares. Not by the feel of the front of his pants. And when he pulls back, he has the most satisfied, smug grin on his face I have ever seen him wear.

"What?"

"Less than six hours and I've already got you moving in. What would Miss Manners say?"

"Jerk."

"Mm-hmm," he mumbles, stealing one more kiss from my lips before he lets me go and heads downstairs.

I throw the blanket back on the bed and listen as he rustles around in the kitchen, putting up the bottle he was drinking from and throwing away the glass he broke.

"Get dressed, Gilbert, before I come back upstairs," he chuckles.

"Maybe I've decided to become a nudist," I tell him, looking through my closet and deciding what clothes I want to bring with me.

My closet flips sideways as his arm catches me around the waist, picking me up and carrying me towards the door like a package under his arm.

"Oh my God! Damon!"

"Changed my mind. The less shit you bring, the better, and what you're wearing is more than plenty."

"Put me down," I laugh and squirm but he just starts down the stairs. "Oh my God, you are not carrying me outside while I'm naked!"

"You're not naked, Elena. Far from it by my count. And I thought you were a nudist?"

"Damon!"

He sets me down on the stairs, swinging our coffee cup around his finger.

"This is gonna be fun," he smirks.

"You're such an ass," I hiss and turn to go back to my room, jumping with a surprised shriek when he slaps my bottom.

"See ya at home," he drawls then leaves, softly closing the front door on his way out.

I grab my suitcase and look around my room.

Yeah, this is going to be…something.

* * *

**A/N: Whoo, that was long and fun, just the way I like it! Thanks to all for reading and reviewing, and hope to see you next chapter! **

**-Goldnox**


	10. Three Is A Crowd

**A/N: Well, hello! How are you guys? Here is the next installment, and we are getting tantalizingly close to the le grande finale! **

**THANK YOU SO MUCH Trogdor19, NO IDEA WHAT I WOULD DO WITHOUT YOU. All the beta awards to you!**

**Episode point of reference: La-la-la non-canon land, after the pageant and pre-dancing in front of ze fire o kissing. But then, someone comes a-knocking on the Salvatore boarding house! *Gasp* I wonder who that could be?**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

**Three Is A Crowd**

I drown in each grind of the gravel under my boots as I stroll back to my car.

I'm sporting a raging hard on I need to walk off, only emphasized by the increasingly painful knowledge with every scratch against my zipper that there's no chance of it being taken care of anytime soon if Elena's staying at the house.

Not while Stefan's living there.

With us.

Fucking hell this is going to be a nightmare.

I already know good and well that she's going to be so damn uncomfortable with Stefan brooding and watching that I'm not going to be able to touch her or kiss her, much less sleep with her if Brother-Cock-Block is there frowning down our necks. And I don't want to hold back now that I've got her, but it looks like I'm right back to tip-toeing with steel-toed boots even though I finally got the damn girl.

The worst part? As much as I'd like to tell myself I'm only going to be doing it for her benefit so she doesn't feel as awkward, the truth is, I'm not.

Elena pulling the brother switch is going to put one hell of a dent in the little bit of reconciliation that Baby Bro and I have managed to build in the last year, and I'm not giving either of them up. Not now. I have earned my right to be happy with my girl on my arm and my brother at my side, damn it.

Too bad that's never going to happen at the same time.

I kick a rock in front of me and watch it bounce down the road, crashing with a thud into the woods on the side of the street.

Why couldn't I just be comfortably selfish and tell her to let Jeremy stay with Matt so she and I could stay at her fucking place?

And it's not that I don't want her living under my roof where I know she's safe and comfortable, where I can pretend to bitch about her shit being everywhere even though every time I stumble across her hair ties and lip gloss it sends my heart racing like a twelve year old girl at a Jonas Brother's concert.

But I also really don't want her moving in _only_ because she has nowhere else to go. I want her to _want _to stay with me.

A smile tugs at my lips because if I'm stupidly optimistic, I think she might. I know she could have stayed with Bonnie, and she could have stayed at Caroline's even though they're fighting. But those weren't the options she was considering when she looked at me in that delightful little cowboy hat wearing nothing more than skimpy lace.

I mean, sure, I was thinking it, but I wasn't going to suggest it. I didn't want to pressure her like that. But when she stared at me with nervousness and hope in those big brown eyes that I'm completely helpless against, I knew what she was asking and I immediately told her yes.

Like I'd ever say no.

Even if that means I'm going to continue _not_ getting laid for the foreseeable future.

Fuck.

I wonder if I can convince her to stay at a hotel with me…

_Nope. Don't even go there. Just suck it up, man. You've waited this long, just fucking deal with it._

I kick another rock and it takes off a limb when it hits the nearest tree.

_Yep, that's productive. _

I realize I'm still swinging the cup around my finger and I immediately stop it. I'm not exactly clumsy but the way my luck works I could just see me tripping on a fucking banana peel and dropping it. That would just be fantastic.

"_So…you know that little cup you love and that we act like doesn't mean everything to both of us? Yeah, it's in shattered pieces all over the street because I was too busy thinking about how I'm not getting in your pants to pay attention to it. You're welcome."_

I groan and roll out my neck. I'm so fucking whipped for this 18-year-old hurricane of a girl, who is probably half-way through her second box of Puffs Plus while she packs her little bags full of cozy sweaters and socks with hearts on them and her teddy bear.

Babar, I remind myself and smile.

We both knew I didn't have to leave her while she got her stuff together, but at least she wasn't mad about it. If anything, she looked a little relieved. There was no question she was going to cry the whole time, and I'm sure she wanted the privacy to do a walk-through of the house without me watching her as she said goodbye to her childhood home and everything, everyone, she's lost.

I'm ridiculously proud of her. She's getting so much stronger, facing this stuff on her own and learning how to make the tough decisions she used to look to me for. She's come a long way from the scared girl that clung to my brother at every unfamiliar shadow. Now, she stares them down with fangs.

Sure, she'll be a little mopey when she gets to the house but I doubt she'll still be crying, and she won't resist me perking her back up. Hell, she was even trying to cheer herself up before I left, cracking jokes and flirting, laughing with me.

I smile to myself and lengthen my strides.

She's gonna be just fine.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I get back to my car at the Lockwood's, halfway surprised that Barbie didn't slash my tires in my absence. I still check it over before I get in, running my hand over it lovingly as I walk around it and inspect for signs of less obvious sabotage and treachery. But all appears to be well and perfect, and I slide into the seat with the ease of a lock clicking into place.

"Miss me?" I purr to my precious Camaro, but when I turn the key she stalls.

No.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

I take a breath and try to relax, think this through.

"Now, don't be like that. I know you saw me leave in that fat and ugly SUV, but believe me, I was thinking about you the whole time," I say sweetly and pet the dash. "You know it didn't mean anything, you're the only one for me, baby."

I turn the key gently, and apparently I'm forgiven for the second time today because she roars to life without a hitch and rumbles her devotion right back at me.

I smile and rev the engine just to pep her up. I love this fucking car.

I'm still grinning by the time I pull in my driveway.

Next to Stefan's Porsche.

I can't help but grimace as I observe it, sitting all quiet and innocent and just plain mocking me. I want nothing more than to destroy the piece of shit in a blaze of justice, pouring multiple pounds of sugar in his gas tank and letting a group of rabid squirrels attack the wires in his engine before I have it towed through a hail storm then dumped in a tar pit.

All I see when I look at the ugly red paint is Elena's tears after he threatened to drive her off Wickery Bridge, and it's a mood killer right up there with the clack of Katherine's stilettos on my bedroom floor.

I'm blatantly scowling at it as I get out of my car, but I still take care to shut my door gently.

"All right, let's get this over with," I grumble, striding into the house and heading right to where he's pacing in the parlor.

He stops and stares at me, arms crossed and forehead all wrinkled.

"I'm not going to fight you, Damon," he shakes his head at me.

"Oh yeah?"

My fist hits his jaw and then he's flat on the floor.

"What the hell was that for?" he growls at me, struggling back up to his feet.

"Has all that shit you put in your hair finally warped your fragile little mind?"

"What are you talking about?" He winces, rubbing his hand over his face where it's still red.

"You shouldn't have fucked with her brother," I spit at him.

"I didn't have a choice," he sighs at me. "Klaus made me do it."

"Keep reciting that one, Cupcake, maybe someone will start to believe it."

He swings at me but misses, his fist catching only air. I step around behind him and kick out his knee so he drops to the rug. I step on his spine, grinding my foot between his shoulder blades.

"And what were you planning to do?" he sputters out, trying to push himself up and I answer by digging my boot harder into his back. "You would've done the exact same. Jeremy is collateral damage now and don't act like you've ever cared about that before."

"I was doing what I told you we would do. Finding another hunter."

"Did you find one?" he asks quietly, no longer struggling.

I know he's praying I didn't because then he'll get to feel all righteous and vindicated, and I almost want to tell him I did just so he'll realize how fucking stupid it was to pull Jeremy into this shit.

But I'm not the liar in this family.

"Not yet," I tell him instead.

"See?" he says, his voice lighting up with validation. "Then I did what I had to do."

"No, you did what you always do," I sneer at him, pressing until I hear vertebrae cracking. "You lied, and you fucked up. Big time."

"I didn't think-"

"That's the problem, Stefan," I growl but let the pressure off so he can scamper to his feet. I wait until he's standing and scowling at me before I continue, my voice dripping with disappointment. "You never think."

"I can't wait for another hunter," he finally says, skipping right over my previous statement and proceeding to poke me in the chest like the moron he obviously is.

I slap his hand away from me and smirk as his knuckles dislocate, walking over to the bar and pouring myself a drink.

"I need to cure her _now_," he hisses, snapping them back in place.

"Jesus, Stefan," I mutter, throwing back a gulp of my bourbon and shaking my head. "Have you even thought about what will happen if you cure her?"

"Yeah," he says, his lips pressed together in annoyance. "She'll be herself."

"She'll have a human heartbeat, sure," I grant him with a nod of my head. "But how long will that last until Klaus drains her?"

He glares at me, arms crossed defensively while I drink from my freshly refilled glass and let that sink in.

Somewhere in him he knows it, but if I don't actually spell it out for him he'll deny that shit all day long and to everyone he's ever met. Including his journal.

"We'll deal with it when the time comes."

"Really? Because that worked so well last time," I say forcefully, getting in his face. "And you really think he's going to be happy with just her?"

"What do you mean?"

"He will _breed_ her, Stefan," I yell and he flinches, looking like he wants to be sick. "You think he's just going to let the line die with her? Use your fucking head."

"You think I'd let that happen?"

"I think you'll get her killed," I tell him and he scoffs. "Wait, I forgot," I smirk. "You've already done that once."

His right cross connects cleanly with my jaw. My head whips right then rebounds back and he must have hit me again, because after another loud crack everything is dark. For a second all I can feel are my knees on the wood floor and hear the crumbling of bones in the lower half of my face before they stop, the process reversing just as quickly. I swear he wears his ring on his right hand just to knock me out when he hits me.

I find my equilibrium and stand, discovering I somehow managed to keep hold of my glass. So I smash it against his ear.

"Damn it, Damon, stop!" he shouts, grimacing and cursing as he pulls glass out of his skin and hair.

"I told you I'd help you find the cure, and I will. But hear me now, brother. You are going to leave Jeremy out of it, and you are not forcing Elena to take it."

"I don't answer to you," he snarls, letting black veins of hatred take his eyes and his mouth sharpening.

I blur between the fireplace and back to him, plunging a stake in his stomach. I force it forward until I feel the pop of his bursting intestine and the tell-tale sound as it scrapes his spine.

He drops to his knees with a grunt, flopping over to his back and clutching at the wood in agony.

"You've forced enough choices on her, Stefan, and if you dare to try curing her against her will then I _will_ kill you."

He winces and pulls, sliding it out of his skin with the thick gurgling of protesting muscles, already struggling to regain their rightful place against the foreign object.

"Look who's the big, over-protective boyfriend…" he mumbles, throwing the stake beside my feet.

"Damn straight I am," I profess and stand a little straighter. "I've stood by and let you hurt her, lie to her, _kill_ her, and I'm done. It's not happening again."

I leave him on the floor, heading upstairs before I stake him again.

I blow into my room and kick the door shut behind me, checking my shirt in the mirror. It must be some kind of a fucking miracle because I didn't get any of his blood on me and I actually don't have to change clothes for the fourth time today. Hooray.

I blow out a breath and run my hands through my hair. I need to calm down before she gets here and starts peppering me with questions of why I'm so pissed off, which will inevitably segue right into a lecture of how I shouldn't be so rough on him. She knows we fight and brawl, but she still doesn't like it and I don't need to give her more ammunition against me on his behalf.

I roll out my shoulders and glance around my room, which is unfortunately already clean. I need something to do.

Got it.

I'm already walking to the linen closet when the grandfather clock in the library chimes to a beautiful six, the bells singing throughout the house and telling me she won't be long. I grab two sets of clean sheets and pillow cases and head to the best guestroom in my wing, the one she stayed in while Stefan was gone, and begin to strip the bed.

The first few times she stayed over during the summer she fell asleep on the couch, but I hated that. After the third time I came downstairs for a drink in the middle of the night and found her there, I'd had enough. I went back upstairs and put fresh sheets down and few extra blankets. Girl freezes in the middle of July and there's not a fireplace in that room, but it's close to mine.

Sure enough, she was shivering under the one inadequate throw blanket she was snuggled under when I scooped her up. Even then she didn't resist curling into me, though her nose wrinkled a bit in confusion before she sighed and tucked her head under my chin.

She didn't even ask where I was taking her as I carried her up the stairs. I could've taken her to Stefan's room, but I figured if she wanted to be in there she wouldn't have been on the couch in the first place. I had half a mind to take her to my bed, but it was a pretty safe bet she'd wake up shouting and slap the shit out of me for that stunt.

I smile and ball up the clean but musty sheets, throwing them into the corner before spreading out the new fitted one and pulling it tight over the corners of the mattress.

I didn't press my luck that night, but maybe I should've.

Her eyes were still closed as I laid her gently down and pulled the covers up around her.

"Are we in your room?" she whispered, burrowing down and nuzzling the pillow.

"No," I quietly told her, finding courage from the pounding in my heart. "Do you want to go to my room?"

"Hmm…" she mumbled and my hope ignited, then was extinguished just as quickly. "No, this is fine."

"Okay," I whispered, brushing the hair back from her face. "I won't be far. I'm right down the hall."

"Thank you," she muttered as I backed out of the room, and she was already asleep by the time I silently shut the door.

After that I kept the room ready for her and she stayed a few times, but not often enough. Then Stefan came back, and she stopped. Not that I blame her.

When he was firmly back on his diet she fell asleep on the couch once. I heard her in the living room and waited for her to go upstairs, but she didn't. When he left an hour later to go hunting I prepared the room for her, but when I went to get her she was sitting up, awake. And hugging my leather jacket.

It took every ounce of control I had not to smirk at her while she blushed like mad, and neither of us said a word as I went straight to the drink cart and poured a healthy dose of bourbon like it had been my intention the whole time. When I turned back around she had innocently laid it over the back of the cushions like nothing had happened, staring and picking at the blanket she had exchanged it for.

"Damon-"

"Room's ready if you want it," I said casually as I passed by, purposefully leaving the jacket in place and internally dancing to her speeding pulse. "'Night, Elena."

"Goodnight, Damon," she whispered as I climbed the stairs.

She stayed on the couch, and I wonder if she didn't want him to know she'd been sleeping at the house while he was away. I sure as hell didn't tell him, and he has no way of knowing if she didn't share that fun little anecdote of _Life Sans St. Stefan_.

I finish making Elena's bed, and as I straighten the pillow and lay the extra blankets by the footboard a part of me hopes that this will all be for nothing, though I'm probably not that lucky. But I still head to my room and do the same, just in case.

I'm crouched in front of the fire I built downstairs and just poking at it for something to do when I hear Elena's car pull in twenty minutes later. Stefan instantly comes downstairs, jauntily swinging around the banister in fresh clothes like he thinks she's here for him. Dipshit.

I realize I didn't tell him that she's been run out of her home thanks to his dumb ass, and I almost can't wait for her to tell him.

Her driver's door shuts, but then so does her back seat door and he stops, looking at me questioningly. I know he's silently asking if she's alone because fucker can't actually hear well enough to know that only one vampire heartbeat is outside. I roll my eyes as I stand and he relaxes just a bit.

I give him a jagged look and point at him as I stroll towards the front door, and he throws his hands up at his shoulders in surrender like he doesn't know why I'm threatening him but I don't give a fuck. He knows what the hell I'm talking about.

I get halfway to the door and stop, walking back to him. He moves back a step like he's preparing to take a hit, but all he gets is a light punch in the shoulder. He huffs out a half-grin, nodding at me.

I open the door before she even knocks, and she's standing there with a bag on her shoulder and another in her hand and she looks so tired and defeated that I can't even find the will to smirk at her. But she takes a steadying breath in a silent greeting before she steps inside, giving me half a smile before she stops in the entryway.

I turn and look and sure enough, Captain Awkward just stepped around the corner, watching her without a word.

"I can't stay at home anymore," she tells him and I wait to see his reaction, because sure as shit he's putting it together faster than he wants to.

He gives her a nod instead of the apology he owes her, glancing at me because he knows I already knew and didn't tell him about our newest in a long string of housemates.

"Pick a room," he says and I glance back outside as she lightly sucks in her breath, but doesn't say anything.

I don't need to see his face. I know the words he's hearing in her silence.

"I'll crash somewhere else," he says and my head snaps up.

Like clockwork, he's playing the martyr and trying to save me, save us all. This is why I told Elena I don't deserve her, but he does. Because he may be an asshole but he's also part saint, and he's doing for me what I did for him all those times I told Elena to forget his lies. It's why I took her to Chicago, why when she called me for help, I called him.

He's trying so hard to put my happiness before his and I don't want that for him. Better than anyone, I know how much it hurts.

He stares me down as he passes by but his eyes aren't angry, just apologetic. He side-steps Elena with as much space as he can muster and I almost stop him, tell him that it's not necessary and one person being run out of their home is enough for one day, but…my words are stuck. And so are Elena's.

I'm still angry with him, blindly protective of her, and three may be a crowd but he's still my little brother and nothing aches quite like seeing the rejection in his shoulders as he leaves us both behind.

Neither of us says a word as we observe him get in his car and drive away, silently watching the place where the glow of his taillights disappeared before I quietly shut the door.

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**A/N: Okay my darlings, we're there! Friggin' sweet! We're FINALLY at the BH and I can't wait! So, please stick around, favorite follow and if you really love me, maybe a review? So appreciated, truly, can't thank you guys enough. Hope to see you next chapter! **

**-Goldnox**


	11. Our Secret

**A/N: Greetings my darlings! So, a bit more of a delay than usual and for which I apologize. But this is gonna be a bit longer than typical so it's all in balance. Hope you guys enjoy!**

**Troggy, oh my dear Troggy, what did I ever do without you? Methinks I see a dancing zebra wearing a glitter thong in your near future for somehow beta-ing from the mountains and daring to revise smut in a coffee shop with dirty old men watching over your shoulder. Te-he.**

**Episode point of reference: Well, we are going to flashback to the beginning of the episode...just kidding! Alright kiddies (and I say that in jest because PLEASE be over 18), the moment has arrived. Elena sashayed her little booty over to Casa de Salvatore, Stefan took the Pouty Walk O' Shame and now its time for a little drinkin', maybe some firelight, and some bow-chica-bow-wow. Oooh yeah.**

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**EXPLICIT WARNING: We are rated very M in this chapter, including the light use/presence of sex toys. You've been warned. :)**

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**ELENA POV**

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**Our Secret**

I watch as Damon shuts the door and I close my eyes, dropping my bags with a defeated huff. It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

I didn't want Stefan to feel like he had to leave, this is his home too. And yeah, it's kind of his fault that I'm here in the first place and I didn't expect to be living with him right after our breakup, but we would have figured it out. We always have before.

My chest squeezes with a sob that I don't let escape. I've completely driven them apart. I've finally become Katherine.

"Damon-" I whisper, my voice sounding as pained as I know my eyes must look.

He's silent as he turns to face me.

"Well?" I lead, gesturing towards the door. "I mean, do we go get him or-"

"Nah," he says flippantly, but his whole body is taut. "Hopefully he'll run off with Blondie and she'll school him in retail therapy 'cause the next time he wears flannel, I swear I'm changing my last name."

"I didn't mean to chase him off," I say, dropping my hands to my side as they curl into fists.

"I don't recall anyone handing him a bill and thanking him for his stay," he scoffs.

"Did you?" I accuse a little harsher than I mean to, and I immediately wish I hadn't said anything.

He leans back an inch that says everything, his eyes full of hurt. For all his flirting with me when I was dating his brother, he still always put Stefan's feelings above his own.

"I'm sorry," I say and shake my head. "It's just-"

"Awkward, Elena," he says with half a smile that doesn't reach his eyes and steps forward into me. "The word is awkward."

His fingertips linger as he gently tucks my hair behind my ear and I lean into his touch, his thumb grazing my cheek and sweeping over the circles under my eyes before he pulls me against him into a hug.

"Long day," he murmurs against my hair and I swear when his breath washes over me, it's like it steals my stress when it floats away.

"Is there such a thing as a short day?" I grumble and his chest shakes a bit as he chuckles.

"In Mystic Falls?"

"Thanks for the silver lining, jerk."

He pulls back and smiles warmly at me, then the corners of his lips unwind into a sexy, exaggerated pout.

"So grumpy…"

"Yeah, well packing blows."

"Blasphemy," he says offended then flares his eyes. "Never underestimate the sexual possibilities of bubble-wrap."

I can't help but smile but it doesn't last. This will only be the first move of many over the coming centuries and the idea is exhausting. He cocks his head to the side, studying me because he must know that I'm imagining endless stacks of cardboard boxes and piles of packing tape, rows upon rows of storage lockers in a desolate warehouse somewhere.

"It go okay?" he asks quietly.

"Yeah, I guess," I shrug.

No reason to dive into details of me sobbing like a baby as I stood in the doorway of Jeremy's room, how I unpacked and repacked my bags three times as I debated whether or not to stay. He doesn't need to hear how when I walked down the stairs I could barely step off the landing because it felt like I was never coming back and I didn't want to go.

"So what do you think, Gilbert," he redirects with a smirk. "Go out for dinner or order delivery?"

"You're not talking human food, are you?"

"Nope," he grins and I roll my eyes at him. "If I wanted to eat something remotely decent in this town, I'd cook. Besides," he says and drops his voice a notch, studying me. "When was the last time you fed?"

"This morning," I reply proudly and he looks halfway impressed. "Matt came over for breakfast," I admit with a wrinkle of my nose, hating that I just reduced one of my oldest friends and first boyfriend to a meal.

"Remind me to thank Wheaties next time I see him."

"Don't call him that," I wheedle and he just laughs. "He has a name, Damon."

"Sure he does," he nods in a placating voice that is nothing less than him obviously mocking me.

"You're so mean," I mutter, but my tone is teasing as I head into the living room. "Especially considering he's on your side."

"Yeah, sure he is," he chuckles, following me into the room but heading straight towards the drink cart.

I plop onto the couch, crossing my legs and propping my head up on one hand. My elbow settles on the armrest and I'm so thankful that I've spent so much time here that it doesn't feel the least bit awkward. The boarding house has always felt like home.

"If he's on anyone's side, it's yours," he says and I hear the splash of liquid filling crystal.

"Exactly."

I've been watching the lines of his back ripple as he moves the bottles around, and I catch him peeking at me over his shoulder before I hear the second clinking of glass against glass. He turns with a drink in each hand and walks back over to where I'm sitting, and his gait is so relaxed that I can't help but to think about how much he's been through today. Yet, he's still entirely focused on taking care of me. What did I ever do to deserve this man?

"Thanks," I say and take the glass he hands me, taking a deeper sip than I usually do.

It's a little strong and the smell tickles my nose, but when it slides down my throat it's smooth too and a lot better than the stuff I had at the Grill yesterday. The flavor lingers on the back of my tongue and it tastes a little like Damon, heat and spice and fiery, forbidden kisses. I already want more and I realize as he takes his place next to me that no matter how much times passes, some things will always burn and I want them to.

"I was being polite," he says, his eyebrows pinching together in suspicion. "Thought you hated whiskey?"

"My brother wants to kill me."

"Welcome to the club," he smirks and raises his glass to toast me.

I can't contain my smile as our glasses touch affectionately. I admire his spirit but it's just not that simple for me to live with being cast off, made to feel tainted by those who pledged unconditional acceptance. I swallow and wish I could hold onto the burn, to keep drinking until I forget the truth of all the things I'm about to say.

"Jeremy can't live with me," I start, staring at the table but his eyes are calling mine and I turn to face him. "Stefan wants to fix me and Caroline flat out admitted that she doesn't like me this way…"

He doesn't say anything but he doesn't have to. I know he wouldn't lie to me about this, but right now I kind of wish he would. Or at least just look like he doesn't know what I'm talking about or to deny that my friends aren't disappointed in whom I've become. But he just looks sad that I know it.

"I think it's safe to say that I'm not so great at this vampire thing," I finish and look down, ashamed that now more than ever I feel like I don't deserve him.

"You want to know what I think?" he says soft and even, and I sit a little straighter, giving him my absolute undivided attention because I do want to know.

Everyone else has made their opinions perfectly clear about my transition and I know he loves me, but he hasn't ever said anything other than being semi-glad it's done and that human or not it doesn't change how he feels. He showed me how to see myself in the mirror with the face of a predator staring back at me, and he taught me to be the kind of vampire I could live with, but he's never said if I'm the kind of vampire that he approves of. And suddenly, that's all that matters.

"I don't think I've ever seen you more alive," he tells me and I can hardly breathe.

There's no armor, no sarcasm, no walls. He's not trying to tell me what I want to hear because he always gives it to me straight, and he's not holding back because of a judging audience that doesn't understand or approve of our relationship. It's just me and him and the fire and the easy honesty of his words and I will _never_ be able to explain to him just how much they mean to me, how much I needed to hear them.

God, if there was something for me to tell him, to show him how much he matters to me. How much he's always mattered to me even before I could allow anyone, myself included, to know it.

"That dance that they did today," I start and I wonder if he's listening to how fast my heart just started racing. "It kind of reminded me of when-"

"When we danced together?" he finishes with a smile and I'm so struck, so lost in his voice and how the words fall with such reverence that it's all I can do to nod.

I want so much to tell him that I remember every step, how I can still feel his hands supporting me and how thankful I am that he was there to lead me. How in his gentleness I knew he was so much more than everything he claimed to be, and how for a minute I felt myself give in to the knowledge that I never wanted the music to end.

"I wanted to dance with you today," I say instead.

_Everyday…_

His eyes flash to my lips, watching the word I didn't say but hearing it all the same. He looks away and there's something a little satisfied in the turn of his head, setting his drink on the table and then taking mine, placing it distinctly next to his.

I have no choice but to admire his every move as he stands and faces me with a confident finesse that I will never be able to match, and all I can think is how strong he looks. There's resilience in the perfect line from his shoulder to his feet, the broadness of his chest and the hint of muscles highlighted by the cut of his shirt.

I've always been a little intimidated by him but tonight I'm just not. Underneath his power there is such a grace of ease. He's relaxed, exuding acceptance and compassion with the steady rhythm of his heart and deep, even breaths that remind me of the precious hours we spend together asleep in my bed.

He straightens and extends his hand, and it's a question that he's asked me so many times but I've always said no. I wasn't ready to love him, to be loved by him, but he's smiling as he waits because today I finally did the right thing.

We are each other's now.

I place my hand in his and as his fingers wrap around mine, all the stress and worry of the day just slips because I know I'm safe. He leads me to the fireplace and I follow without hesitation, and I'm sure I must be blushing because I can't stop thinking how he's so much more romantic than I ever thought. I don't know how I ever missed it.

It's the way he's careful with me, guiding me into him but still waiting for me to respond, watching with wonder as my fingers find his. It's the hand on the small of my back, pressing firmly to support me though his thumb brushes over my spine with tenderness.

He looks at me and we're so much closer than I realized, his breath mixing with mine and I really want him to kiss me…

But he straightens so he's even taller than before and with a single step, we're dancing.

It's not the squared lunge of the waltz or even the playfulness of the Sixties Decade Dance. It feels more like the quiet sway we shared in his shower. The slow revolve of comfort, the knowledge that you don't have to be faultless or inhibited. The only thing that matters is the person standing opposite you and that you're close enough to lean on them. So that's what we do, we lean and share; my hand on his shoulder and his on my back, our fingers joined together and temples lightly touching and it's absolutely perfect.

We make a full turn and when we're back to the beginning he looks at me and smiles, his hand sliding to my hip and spinning me out. It's so silly but I can't help but blush it's so sweet, my heart fluttering as I pause. I swing back into him and I don't know if it's more me or Damon, but it doesn't matter and I don't care. Our lips meet and it's everything I could ever want and more.

It's the flawless balance of need and relief, soft and passionate and slow and intense. Its eyes sealed shut in trust and hands pulling us tighter, one long _hello_ and _I love you_ and _you're my everything. _

And then it's just more. I need more.

His mouth recaptures mine as his head tilts to the right because he _always_ leans that way and I love that I know this. My arm is around his neck and my fingertips tracing his jaw, his hands lifting me into him.

His fingers find mine and guide my arm around his neck because he knows, he always knows, and he must feel the same because he's kissing me roughly and crushing me against him and nothing feels as good as he does.

I push against his chest and everything blurs. His back hits a wall and there's something in my way, so I kick it and push and the crash doesn't matter because all I hear is his racing heart and gasping breaths and _I want him_.

It's lips and hands everywhere at once and I'm pressed up against him, he's drawing me into him, but all I can think is that he's still dressed. My hands fist his shirt and I pull, ripping it apart to reveal him and he's so sexy I can't believe he's mine.

He's let me have control this whole time, but I'm ready to let him take me and he does. We move and my back hits something hard.

The heat of the fire next to us is nothing compared to what's really burning.

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

I have Elena pressed up against the wall beside the fireplace, my mouth ravaging hers and her leg hiked around my waist. I'm stroking the back of her thigh and rocking my hips into her and there's no fucking way I'm gonna be able to get us to the bedroom.

Her hands leave the place where they've been buried in my hair and tug again at my ripped shirt, hurriedly stripping it off my shoulders and down my arms before she tosses it aside. Her tongue is deep in my mouth, kissing me greedily and flooding me with the taste of the bourbon I gave her and a sweetness that I'll never be able to identify as anything except that which is undeniably her.

She reaches between us to undo my belt. Somewhere in my mind there's a voice telling me to slow down, not to rush this but I ignore it. After the memorial I expected to have to wait years before it was our time, but it's here sooner than I expected and every time we've come close today the universe conspired to remind me that I'm not supposed to have her. But she said she's mine and I _need_ her, so I keep my hands still as she unclasps the buckle, ripping it from my pants with a hiss and throwing it on the other side of the room.

She bites my lip and I pull back before I can help it, and with a wicked smile on her face and her hands on my chest I know that's exactly what she wanted. She shoves with just enough force to push me back a foot, and then she's stalking forward and dropping to her knees. She already has my pants undone and halfway down before I realize what my sweet, fabulously corrupted ex-cheerleader is about to do. And I would never ask her to do this, but I'm not going to stop her either.

My groan is loud and harsh as she takes me all the way into her mouth, and if Klaus wanted to kill me tomorrow I could die fucking happy. Except there's no way I am ever going to be able to get enough of this. Elena's perfect lips are wrapped around my cock, her tongue massaging and tasting me and this can't possibly be happening...

Her hands finish pulling off my pants, and then they're sliding back up my legs and gripping my ass, pulling me deeper into her.

I hit the back of her throat and I panic for a moment, but I forget about what when I feel her moan and swallow as she takes me deeper.

"Fuck, Elena-" I cut off as she drags her tongue up the length of my dick and twirls it around my head, smiling and looking up at me. Fucking hell, if that isn't the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my whole damn life.

My hands are still dangling restlessly by my sides because she's so sweet and so young and though she's playing a little dirty, I don't want to pressure her. For all that we've done, we've never done this. I swear it's like she can read my mind though because she takes one of my hands and lays it on her hair, giving me permission to relax and enjoy her without fear or any need of restraint.

I fucking love this girl.

I close my eyes and focus on all the sensations she's submerging me in; the softness of her hair, the heat of her breath and the rough wetness of her tongue. Damn, she feels so good and if I'm not careful she's going to get a little more than she bargained for.

"Elena, shit-" I cut off as she does something purely evil with her tongue that makes my dick twitch and my head swell. Where the fuck did she learn to do this? Never mind, I don't want to know.

"Baby, you've gotta stop," I breathe and she does that _thing_ again, tearing a noise that's pure instinct from my throat and my hands weave deeper into her hair.

She moans a little and it feels like disappointment which only pushes me further, a tightness coiling at the base of my spine and my head is so sensitive I can feel the ridges of her taste buds rubbing against me. I blow out a breath, trying and utterly failing to get my shit together. I know that as incredible as it would feel to finish in her mouth, I honestly would much rather spend the rest of the night buried between her legs.

She pulls away as soon as I start to feel heat pushing through my length and I must be the biggest idiot on the face of the planet for stopping her. She stares at my dick hungrily, flashing her eyes up to me for only a second before she takes me in her mouth again like she can't possibly help herself.

"Christ, Elena…" I mumble as my eyes roll back into my head, and it's starting again…

"Hmm," she moans then pulls away. "Okay, okay. Sorry," she smiles at me and stands.

"What the fuck was that?" I grin as I pick her up, wrapping her legs around my waist to carry her and forgetting why we're moving at all when she starts nibbling my earlobe.

"That was me," she whispers, leaning back to look in my eyes. "Sucking your cock."

I moan at her words 'cause _holy shit_, like _that's_ not going to be on constant repeat in my mind for the rest of eternity.

"Elena," I say, practically growling her name while desperately trying to remember where the stairs are. "You cannot talk to me like that and expect to get away with it."

Her giggle is interrupted by a vibration on her hip that threatens to take me down to my knees.

"Mmm, that feels good," she mutters and attacks my lips, slipping her tongue inside my bottom lip and across my teeth.

I set her down roughly on the nearest table I can find, knocking a lamp or a vase or something over in the process. I spare a glance at the floor and yep, it was a priceless antique clock but who the fuck cares? All I can think about is the treasure chest of shit in my closet that is ready to go with fully charged batteries and her name on every piece.

"Damon," she pants into my mouth and I know I won't care how many times she screams that she hates me over the coming eternity, just as long as she never stops saying my name like that. "Aren't we going upstairs?"

"Phone," I tell her, moving down to her neck and my hands further up her thighs, under her adorable little polka dot dress.

"Huh?"

"Give me your phone."

She shifts as she reaches into her pocket, pulling out the make shift vibrator and wiggling it at me, displaying an unread text message from Bonnie.

"This what you want?" she smirks.

I reach for it and she pulls it away, holding it above her head where she thinks it's out of reach because she somehow forgot that my arms are longer. I could have it in a second, but if she wants to play I'm all for it.

"Come and get it," she challenges with a jut of her chin.

"You think you're gonna win?" I purr at her, sliding my hand up her arm and stopping at her wrist.

"Yep."

"How about…" I pause, kissing her deeply until her arm is slackening. "_You_ come, and I get it."

I move my free hand between us to tease her clit through her wet panties, and she's so turned on and sensitive that she climaxes before I can even slip inside her. I get my first scream as her body spasms, forgetting her ploy to hold her phone and it drops right into my waiting palm.

Yep, I got it all right.

I pull away from her center and wait until she opens her hazy eyes, wiggling the phone back at her in triumph.

"That was cheating," she mumbles breathlessly as I turn it off and stick it in a drawer.

"Your idea, not mine," I chuckle.

"I always have the best ideas." She smiles at me, looking a little drunk and I can't help but laugh.

"Is there any special significance to this outfit I should know about?" I ask, removing the oversized belt she has around her waist and pulling off her ankle boots.

"Such as?"

"Gift, etc..."

"Nope, just a dress," she shakes her head at me, still a little dazed. "I do like it though."

"Me too," I say and kiss her softly. "Say goodbye to your dress, Elena."

"'Goodbye to your dress, Elena'."

"Smart ass," I snicker, gathering her skirt in each of my hands and ripping the whole thing right up the front from seam to glorious seam. Ta-da.

"Oh honey, you shouldn't have," I smile, my eyes flaring and heart beginning to race as I survey the luxurious black bra-and-panty set she's wearing.

She wore something similar earlier today, but this is different, the lace more intricate and the satin softer. And the thong she was showing off this afternoon was undoubtedly fantastic, but there's something about the bikini cut where I know just the bottom of her ass is peeking out and that shit drives me insane.

"You like?" She blushes, looking more than pleased at my reaction.

"Hell-fucking-yeah I like. I bought it, didn't I?" I grin proudly and run my hands from her hips up her sides, stopping just under her breasts. My thumbs brush over her nipples and she arches back to give me the best view, slipping her arms free from the sleeves of her ruined dress and letting it fall away.

"What possessed you to go on the world's most depraved shopping spree, by the way?" she laughs as her fingers braid themselves in my hair, holding me to her as I begin tasting the skin over heart.

"For perfect little moments like this," I answer and dip my tongue under the top of one cup, savoring her hardened nipple with a groan. "Please tell me you packed the rest of it in one of those little bags you brought."

"You mean the red strappy ones that cover practically _nothing_? Or the blue boy-shorts?" She lays a finger over her lips and glances at the ceiling like she's thinking, then with a flare of her eyes she moves her wicked little finger so it's just under my chin and I'm completely captivated. "The purple and black garters with the corset that matches?"

"You did, didn't you?" I beam.

She shrugs innocently, then blushes and nods.

"Fucking _love you_," I growl and pull her mouth back to mine, lifting her up from the table and making my way to the front door.

My hand hits the wood a moment before her back, but we still crash harder than I meant to and she gasps and giggles. I flip the lock and deadbolt and she glances at the sound, looking back at me more than a little amused.

"Did you really just lock the door?"

"Damn straight I did."

"Good," she smiles and her hand slips between us, her fingers wrapping around my cock and rubbing my head against the fabric hiding her clit.

"Elena," I moan, "I am never going to get you upstairs if you don't stop that."

"So fuck me here," she pants and my dick jumps in her hand, pressing harder into her and she trembles.

Door it is.

"Hold on to me, sweetheart," I tell her and work one arm under her thigh so she's resting on my forearm.

"Some fight you're putting up," she grins as her arms wind tighter around my neck.

I pull her panties aside with my free hand and slide two fingers against her, her eyes rolling back and head resting against the door.

"What my girl wants, she gets."

I quickly stroke myself with her silken want before hooking my arm under her, sliding against her freely.

"What she wants," she breathes, her half-hooded eyes meeting my gaze. "Is you, inside her. Now."

I kiss her once, soft and devoted before drawing back so I have her eyes again.

I slam into her, burying myself as far as I can and hitting home on the first try. She shouts and clenches, warmth coating my cock as she climaxes over me.

"God, I missed you," I rush out as she settles, relishing her dazed smile.

"I missed you too," she whispers and presses her mouth to mine.

I stroke into her gently, relearning what it is to be in nirvana. I lose myself in how tight she is, molded around me perfectly and locking me into her with every lingering throb of pleasure.

I make love to her with my whole body, using all the power I can find by rolling my back and hips, digging my heels into the floor so I'm as close to her as I can possibly get. And still she pulls me closer; her ankles are locked behind me and her hands woven through my hair, her teeth scraping the skin on my neck.

"Bite me," I beg, thrusting deeper and grinding her harder into the door.

"I can't," she pants but I feel her fangs prick me.

"You can," I whisper and the stroke of her tongue over the tiny punctures already has me dangerously close to release. "Please, Elena…"

She sinks them into my vein and I can't stop it before I explode up into her. I growl and push up onto my toes so I can get it as deep inside of her as I possibly can. She clenches and takes it all, blood and love and passion and all that I have to give.

I want her to have it all.

I feel her fangs slide out of my skin but I can't find my voice to protest. I take a breath and try to think past the steady and loud ticking of my heartbeat echoing through my head.

There's something cool against my forehead. It must be the door. I find my arms and I'm somehow still holding her up, but with me leaning against her she's supporting me more than I am her. She shivers and my cock twitches. I realize I'm still inside her.

God, I never want to move.

Her lips touch my temple and it's so tender that right now I would vow to do anything she wants. I don't care how ridiculous or embarrassing or overly sentimental and romantic it is. All she has to do is ask.

"Damon…" she quietly teases, a smile in her voice and twirling the hair at the base of my neck.

Maybe she _can_ read my mind.

"Hmm…"

"We gonna stay here all night?"

I nod.

She laughs.

And it feels incredible, damn near making my knees buckle at the same time as I start to harden inside her.

"Gimme a minute," I whisper because I really don't think I can speak any louder right now.

"Like you even need one," she purrs and I rock my hips once because she's right, I'm already solid as steel and she feels so damn good I can't resist.

She gasps and I tighten my grip on her, thrusting once more. I'm so stupidly addicted to her and I don't even care.

"Bed…"

"Too far," I grumble.

"Don't get me wrong, doors are great," she manages to get out between moans at my increasingly faster strokes. "Beds are better."

"Hmm."

"Damon…"

"Fine," I mutter, carefully unwinding us and lowering her feet to the floor. I dip my head and kiss her, and her little hands drift from my neck to my chest.

My tongue is playing with hers and I don't know how she did it, but all I know is one second she's in front of me and the next I'm hitting the door and the handle rearranging my spine. My eyes pop open at the discomfort but I forget it all when I see her backing away from me, smiling coyly and beckoning me to follow with a sexy little twist of her finger.

I take a measured step towards her, letting my eyes linger on the bra and underwear she somehow still has on.

"You are wearing entirely too many clothes, Gilbert."

"Oh yeah?" she grins and turns around, peeking at me over her shoulder. "And exactly what do you plan to do about it?"

I lunge for her and she shrieks and giggles, blurring up the staircase with me hot on her heels. I could catch her in an instant but I let her reach my room first. I cross over the doorway and she's standing next to my bed, her back to me. Perfect.

I'm within inches of her when she turns and grabs my wrist, using my own momentum to fling me onto the bed. I know my face has to be full of surprise because I didn't teach her that and it's one of my favorite moves to use when I fight. Girl is nothing short of amazing.

"Gotcha," she smiles and then she's on top of me, straddling my waist and kissing me hungrily.

Her lips trail down to my jaw and my neck, and I hope she bites me again but she doesn't. Instead, she seems like she wants to trace every inch of my skin with her tongue and God, I want her to. She lingers in one spot, then rushes to another and can't seem to decide what or where she wants me more and I love it all.

She scrapes me with her teeth and sooths me with her lips and I know I'm gasping, begging her for more. I can't find words but my body reaches for her, even as my hands are gripping the pillow above me. No one has ever touched me like she does.

She comes back to my lips and rocks against me, satin stroking my cock and reminding me she's still wearing those damn panties. I growl and roll us, keeping us firmly on the bed this time. I nip at her lips and work my way down her chest, her back arching up into me as I kiss a heated trail over her stomach and hips.

I pull at the fabric with my teeth and let it snap back in place.

"This shit's gotta go," I smirk and sit up, sliding them down her legs as she strips off her bra.

"Surprised they lasted this long," she grins. "You're getting sloppy in your old age."

"Oh you're in serious trouble now," I growl and surge up over her, nipping at her neck as she giggles and squirms, though her hand in my hair is holding me to her rather than pushing away.

I draw her leg up around my waist, and she's so wonderfully wet I slip inside her easily. We both groan at the connection and as she kisses me I swear we are never getting dressed again.

She bites at my lips and I get an idea. I really don't know how she's going to respond to this, but I guess there's only one way to find out and I do know she's a lot kinkier than she even wants to admit.

"Stay here," I whisper against her mouth, and she moans her disapproval.

"What are you doing?"

"Baby, you reap what you sow."

She pouts as I roll off the bed and head into the closet. "If you get to scamper off and get a cowboy hat there's no reason I can't do that same," I grin and open the package. "Sorta."

"Sorta?" she laughs.

"Yep," I say and head back towards the bed, mystery item safely concealed in my hand. "Close your eyes."

"Why?" she asks, smiling though she narrows her eyes at me in suspicion.

"I played by your rules…" I offer as I sit next to her.

"Fine," she grumbles and does as I asked.

I take her hand in mine and lay the plastic ring in her palm. Her head cocks with a grin and I'm sure based on the size she thinks it's a condom, except she knows we don't need them and it's hollow in the center. She closes her hand over it and drags a fingertip over the bulge at the top.

"Damon?" she asks with a smile, her eyes still closed.

I unfurl her fingers and lay my hand flat over hers so it's pressed between us, then turn it on.

"_OhmyGod!"_ she bursts out when it starts to vibrate, her eyes popping open in shock and her whole body flushing crimson.

I flare my eyes and laugh, turning it off and taking it from her.

"Is that a…"

"A what?" I smirk and she blushes deeper. "It's just a little enhancer, Elena," I say quietly, smiling gently and tucking her hair behind her ear. "We don't have to use it if you don't want to. But you'll like it, trust me."

She considers me for a moment and bites her bottom lip, like she wants to say yes but doesn't want me to hear her say it.

"I do," she finally whispers. "Trust you."

"Then I'm gonna take that as a yes," I say and lean forward to kiss her.

Her mouth is soft and a little timid, and that's absolutely okay. I can tell she's nervous from the thundering of her heart and the last thing I want to do is push her, which is why I showed her what it was before just putting it on.

She's a hell of a lot of fun but she's still young and fairly inexperienced, although we're working on that. I honestly don't know what kind of shenanigans she's gotten up to in the past based on what she pulled downstairs, but to my knowledge there's only been two admitted to the holy land.

But she's always been more open, more trusting with me and I know her. She likes the rush, the danger, and though there's nothing really dangerous about this, I'm sure it feels that way to her.

I'm still sitting beside her, kissing her slowly and letting her ease into the idea but she's getting a little impatient and pulling me closer. It's the only sign I need. I slip it on, sliding it down my shaft so it's comfortably seated at the base of my length but I keep it turned off, moving so I'm laying over her and settling between her legs.

I stroke the back of her thigh, guiding her to wrap it around my waist and she does, but giggles quietly.

"Our secret," I tell her and she nods.

I enter her gently and she arches up into me, gasping as it grazes against her clit. I stroke into her again, deeper, her nails beginning to dig into my back to draw me further in.

"Ready?" I breathe against her ear, and she gives me another little nod.

I pull out and reach down to turn it on, my eyes rolling back as it sends tingles raging through my oversensitive cock. I push my swollen head into her and she moans my name, and I'm totally screwed because she's gonna lose it and I'm never going to last like this.

I rock all the way into her and as soon as it touches her she shudders and jerks, melting over me and squeezing me tighter. I don't give her time to settle, I can't. I need more and I know she does too so I drive harder, deeper. She meets me for every thrust, clinging to me and kissing my shoulder, my arm, anything she can reach.

"Come here," I tell her and sit back, pulling her up so she's straddled over me.

She sinks down onto me and immediately I feel my orgasm starting, burning up my spine and aching to be set free. My hands anchor her to me as she rolls her hips, grinding against me with all she has and biting at my lips while I thrust up into her.

I wrench her down harder and her head falls back as she shouts, climaxing fiercely and I have no choice but to join her. It's everything at once as reality fades away. Hands pulling and bodies shaking, gasps and moans and screams and _us_.

Her hands cradle my face, her mouth re-finding mine and as my knuckles brush her jaw it's the apex of every secret, the mirror of every moment. It's a complicated history and all the memories yet to come.

I roll us so she's under me and I push again and I'm lost.

I don't know what happens, but everything just slips away.

All that's left is trust and life and hard and soft and skin. Just skin…

I grab her hand and her fingers slip through mine, securing me to everything and nothing. My arm winds under her back, pulling her up into me and I drive harder but I don't know how, and she is everything, everything...

I have no name, no purpose other than _harder, deeper, more._

"Elena, I don't know what's happening," I hear my lips say between gasps and moans.

I've never felt this vulnerable and I'm afraid. It's so much, too much, and out of control and I need more.

"You're safe," she whispers. "You're inside me and you're safe. I'll never let anyone hurt you."

More.

Again.

"_Elena."_

I can't protect her. I don't know anything, feel anything else other than _inside her_…

"Just feel me, I've got you," she promises. "You're safe, baby, you're safe. Just let go," she tells me and I do.

My soul knows her truth and I propel forward in a move I don't understand and can't control. I lose my body, existence, time, and I think I'm shouting…

It leaves me and takes all I am, filling her with the force of love and desire and relief and life.

She is gravity and blood and light and my soul and I need her, need her, need her. So I give it all to her to keep safe where it's protected from me.

She is all I know.

Her skin and warmth and heart and _love her_, _forever_, because she'll keep me safe.

It's the biggest secret we will ever share.

* * *

**A/N: Okay guys, hope you enjoyed that because I did. We have ONE MORE chapter to go to round things off and send the couple on their merry way before I stop time and shut the doors on them (lol) because FUCK THE SIRE BOND. *clears throat* Yeah. Anyway, in case anyone was wondering, yeah, Damon totally just wore a vibrating cock ring. Feel free to check out your local kink store or order online because they are super fun. **

**On a more serious note, thank you all so much for the love and support and following. You really end up pouring your life and soul into these stories as an author and to be so well received, it just means everything to me. Love you all!**

**-Goldnox**


	12. Blood and Chocolate

**A/N: Okay guys, here is the final chapter! *wipes tears* Thank you all so much for the never-ending support and love, for all the hits and favs and follows and for every single review. There just aren't words to describe the many thanks I wish I could give every one of you. **

**Episode point of reference: Damon and Elena just had a whole bunch of super fun sexy times (WITHOUT a voice over *cough cough*) and we're gonna pick right up from there. Because when in doubt, just add more sex? Right?**

**Dear Trogdor19, you may not have beta'd this chapter but in a way, you did, and this one is for you. Because your (written) voice is always in my head telling me to do better, and every time I dare to write a semi colon, use the word "heart" or "enough" I can feel your eyes in the back of my head. And for this, I will always thank you. You have supported me thru multiple bouts of writers block, waged war for and with me against characters that can be incredibly stubborn, and you always have the words I need to keep me going, and laughing. Love girl. **

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

**Blood and Chocolate**

I'm lying on my stomach, savoring each fluttering brush of the soft little lips kissing my shoulder. Elena's petting my lower back and even after an hour like this, I'm still regaining my breath. My head is in the best kind of fog, the kind brought on by multiple orgasms and not even knowing how many she had. But it was more than me, and that's all I care about.

I don't know if I've ever been this happy or comfortable in all my long years. She hasn't stopped soothing me since I had the best orgasm I will never understand or forget, and her skin is hot where she's pressed into my side, her leg wound over mine so we're all nice and tangled.

My eyes are closed as I focus on her scent, and it's citrus lotion and a little sweat and my fabric softener and a whole lot of dirty sex. They could bottle this and price gouge the fuck out of it and everybody would still buy it anyways because nothing smells this good. But I smile when I realize that nobody can steal this.

This is all mine.

"I'm hungry," she whispers and nibbles on my skin.

"You're new."

"I meant human food," she lightly laughs and bites me again, harder this time.

"There's no way in hell I'm getting out of bed. You killed me, I'm dead," I grin at her with my eyes closed.

"I want something sweet."

"I'm sweet, eat me."

I hear the ruffling of fabric and feel the slide of her skin as she slips between me and the sheet that's over my legs, straddling my hips and leaning forward to press her breasts into my back. God, she's so soft its borderline unnatural. And I know soft, I pay for it. But Elena's skin can best any thread count no matter how exotic the silk and she's my absolute favorite blanket.

Her hands work themselves under my arms and grip my shoulders from the front, using me to anchor us closer together. She nuzzles the back of my neck and I can't help but to squirm as she tickles me with her eyelashes, brushing against the base of my hairline.

She's peppering little kisses on my skin so light I can barely feel them, and my boneless arms reach down to touch the only part of her I have the strength to find, grazing my fingers over her knees. I reach further up her thigh and she erupts in delicate little goose-bumps at my touch.

Woman is going to be the glorious death of me.

"Damon…" she says in a sing-song tease and I don't know what she wants, but whatever it is she can have it as long as I don't have to move ever again.

"Hmm…"

"Time to get up, you're gonna be late for school."

"Born in 1840, Gilbert. In-home tutors, but nice try," I grumble out of the side of my mouth.

"How about…you're going to miss last call?" she whispers, her breath hot and caressing my ear.

"Men need rest, child. Especially after _that_."

"Fine, Grandpa," she says and I feel her sit up, tracing random patterns on my skin with her nails and it feels nothing short of amazing. "Then I'm going to go downstairs, make a fabulous mess in your kitchen, and you can stay here and sleep."

"Like hell you are."

I get one quick kiss placed perfectly over my spine before she giggles and I'm suddenly freezing. I turn my head just in time to see a flash of cream-colored fabric floating around my open doorway because she actually took the damn sheet with her as she bounded off the bed and blurred out of the room. That shit is just pure evil.

Not even a minute goes by before I hear a drawer in the kitchen slam shut followed by the rattling of silverware and I smile. She's going to have to try harder than that.

Next is something that sounds like a stainless steel bowl clattering on the floor, followed by an adorable and giggly, "Oops."

Nope, I'm not moving.

The subsequent crash is massive, and it sounds like she just introduced every pot and pan I own to the tile beneath her bare feet. But she's not laughing.

Great.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit…" I hear her mumble and I'm up and grabbing a pair of boxers before I can think about what she probably just broke. Woman is a damn tornado of destruction and doom, and it's fine when it's my clothes but my kitchen is another thing entirely. And if she's cursing, it does not bode well for my breakfast plans.

I pad down the stairs loud enough that she can hear me coming and I wait to hear her scrambling around to try and minimize the damage before I get there, but she's quiet. I take a breath to prepare myself when I step into the kitchen, but I don't get any further than the doorframe.

Elena's sitting on the counter, wrapped in the best use of a sheet I've ever seen. She has it under her arms, one corner tucked in between her breasts. Her crossed legs are peeking out from where it's open, her foot swinging lazily and prompting the sheet parting at the top of her thighs to pull and shift like any second it's going to reveal the heaven between her legs.

She's planned this flawlessly, right down to the tiny section of fabric that's dipped between her legs to make it impossible for it to actually fall away. I know she's watching me gawk at her, and I could try to make some sort of joke and play it smooth but all I really want to do is stare this image into my brain so that one day when I forget everything else, this will still remain.

She smiles coyly and leans back on her hands, her foot kicking the edge of the sheet that's dangling down the cabinet to draw my attention, as if she didn't have it already. I pull myself together enough to give her a half-smile and cross my arms, leaning against the doorway casually like this isn't making me want to burn all her clothes and insist that she is only allowed to wear my bed sheets for the rest of her eternal life.

She blushes and my pulse dances. This ought to be good.

As I watch she uncrosses her legs, keeping them tightly together to tempt me with what I can't see. But she can't keep the sheet tucked between them as she rearranges her limbs and gravity is my new best friend. The edges drop and it opens all the way to where it's secured between her breasts, the Bermuda triangle of legs, hips, and stomach all wonderfully on display. She shakes her hair out while my jaw is probably on the floor somewhere, tightly re-crossing her legs in the opposite position and still managing to keep herself shielded.

Fucking hell she is the sexiest thing I have ever seen. And her little design worked impeccably because as spent as I was two minutes ago, I'm now burning with adrenaline and the urging poison of testosterone and I _want_ what she's hiding from me.

I have no idea how she manages to reach inside me and shake away all the parts until I'm nothing more than carnal nature, but she does. And I honestly don't know if I tried to speak that it would come out in anything other than prehistoric grunts and growls.

Damon. Want. Elena.

Fucking _roar_.

Her eyes drop down to my boxers and settle on the evidence of my interest, her skin flushing and heart speeding up and it only makes me swell more. I love that she can't seem to resist me, as powerless as I am to her.

I spare a quick glance around the kitchen to see what destruction she used to get me down here, but everything appears to be in order. There's a steel bowl next to her on the counter, along with a metal serving spoon. The pots and pans hooked to the ceiling above her are slightly swinging and as I look at them and cock an eyebrow at her, her shoulders shake in her guilty laughter.

Crafty little temptress, my girl is.

I don't say anything as I push off the doorframe, shaking my head at her and going to the refrigerator. I root around in the back until I find my stash, because Stefan may be brainless but he knows I buy the best ice cream and he will devour that shit if he finds it. It's total bullshit, especially since he knows I have it delivered all the pricey way from fucking Oregon.

I retreat with the pint of Coffee Almond Fudge Tillamook and fresh strawberries, grabbing a spoon and closing the drawer with my hip before I set everything on the counter next to her. She watches wide eyed as I scrape a bite-sized chunk of frozen nirvana and hook it onto the point of the berry, tilting it towards her in offering. She licks and bites her bottom lip, leaning forward just an extra inch towards me.

I pull it away from her and bite it in half, rolling my eyes back dramatically at the taste. I have my own internal fist pump when I hear her suck in a breath.

Her eyes are scorching when I open mine to hers, peeking up at her from under my eyelashes. I half smile and lick my lips and I'm one hundred percent successful in getting her heart to stutter.

She's so much fun.

"Ass," she huffs and grabs my neck, pulling my mouth down to hers.

I'm grinning like the love crazed fool I am as her tongue slips between my open lips, her rush of need and impatience stopping when she finds the flavor on me. Her moans vibrate down my throat, her strokes thick and hot and slow but powerfully intense and I fucking love kissing this girl.

"Mmm, you taste like chocolate," she whispers as she pulls back just enough to speak, but she can't seem to stay away.

She lingers with soft and plump kisses, sucking and nibbling on my bottom lip and I'm more than happy to let her enjoy me to her heart's content while I stand next to her, trying to sneak my hand up her thigh.

She finally separates us, leaning back on her hands and staring at my lips.

"Is that what you had in mind?" I ask and prepare her one of her own, handing it to her with a flare of my eyes.

"Mmm-hmm," she grins triumphantly, biting it in half and red juice dribbling down her chin.

Jesus Christ.

She giggles and squirms as I growl and go after it, kissing and licking the sticky sweetness up to her mouth and playful tongue.

"Delicious," I say quietly with my lips grazing hers, and she blushes.

Ladies and gentlemen, it's official.

The most adorable thing to walk this planet is in my kitchen wearing nothing but a bed sheet, blushing because she's so sweet that this is probably a little kinky for her. And that in itself is a huge contradiction because I could rattle off a list of shit that we _just did_ that makes this look tamer than holding hands.

God, I love her.

Her eyes are still a little hazy when I lean back and take up the pint, spooning a bite first into her mouth and then into mine.

"_OhmyGod,_" she mumbles, covering her mouth with her hand. "What is this?"

"Milk, cream, sugar-"

"Damon…"

"It's just ice cream, Elena," I laugh and give her another bite.

"No, it's not," she says, trying and failing to talk around a full mouth before swallowing the rest of it. "_That_ is sex on a spoon."

I nearly spit out the bite I just took, actually coughing and choking just a little bit.

"You all right there, Gramps? Did I shock your delicate sensibilities?" she mocks with a wicked little pout.

"You better stop calling me that or you're gonna get yourself in a whole lot of trouble," I warn, pointing the spoon at her.

"Maybe I want to be in trouble."

"Mm-hmm." I look away and act like I'm getting another bite, but instead of bringing it to my mouth I flick it at her so it lands on her neck.

"Damon!" She jumps in shock, her hands immediately moving to where it landed but I catch them, having thrown everything down in time to stop her from spoiling my fun.

I smile at her and hold her still, letting it slide and melt its way down to the top of her breast. I stop it with my tongue just before it touches the sheet, licking and kissing back up the trail it made before I stop and press what's left of it into her neck.

She shivered a bit the whole time, and I know it has to be cold on her skin. But now that I'm over her vein, she's fully trembling.

She's too good to resist.

I prick her just enough to let a few drops flow and she gasps in surprise, but I can sense her want and she is crazy turned on. It only drives me more. Nothing tastes as good as she does, but mix it with chocolate and coffee and almonds? Even with my restraint and control its damn near impossible to stop.

I make myself pull away and release her hands so I can un-hook her legs, stepping in between them before finally tearing the sheet away so she's bare before me. She's arching into my hands as I slide them up her back, kissing her deeply and cupping her neck in my palm.

I turn and grab another strawberry, biting just the tip off before I return to her. I massage my fingers into her scalp and she tilts her head back just like I want her to, her lips parting and eyes closed while her legs tighten around my waist. I trace her lips with it slowly, watching them stain red. She sucks her bottom one into her mouth and I can't help but smile at her impatience. I trace it again.

"Wait," I whisper and she whimpers at me.

I toss it into the sink and grab the spoon, leaving a tiny dollop on my tongue before I go to her neck. She's already healed so I tenderly open her vein again, letting her blood trickle into my mouth.

She gasps when I lick at her lips to get the last taste I want, opening her mouth to mine. It's the unequivocal explosion of sensation when our tongues meet, hot breath and cold cream and sweet and citrus and blood swirling between us until it all blends into one indefinable essence.

It's euphoric.

There's a slice of pain in my lip and I feel it start to bleed, realizing with an eager groan that her teeth have descended. She pulls against it and I return the favor, enjoying the last hints of flavor on her lips. Her kiss is rough and sharp, her hands grabbing at my hips and shredding my boxers until I'm free for her to wrap her fingers around.

My whole body jerks at her touch, still over sensitive from our earlier sex. She strokes me once and I didn't think it was possible to get any harder, but apparently I was wrong. Her thumb sweeps over my head and that's it, I can't wait anymore.

I lean her back gently, guiding her with my hand behind her neck and another between her breasts until she's lying on the counter with her hair fanned out around her.

Her back bows as I kiss my way down her body, relishing in the taste of her skin when it's clean and pure. I pause when I reach her hip, nipping at it playfully until she's writhing on the counter.

Oh yeah, we're gonna have some fun.

I grab a strawberry and lean over her, touching it to her lips. She kisses it and I almost come right there because _damn_.

"Bite it, baby," I whisper and she does, smiling with her eyes closed.

I make myself move as slowly as possible, dragging the remaining half from her neck to the dip between her breasts, dashing a dotted line down to her stomach.

"Damon, I'm going to be all sticky," she quietly giggles.

"Mmm," I rumble, running my tongue over the red trail and cleaning it off her from belly to breasts. Her whole body is shivering by the time I reach her neck, her breaths increasingly shallow and her hips rolling towards me with demand.

She gasps when I tease her nipples with the fruit, circling each carefully before taking them into my mouth. I take my time, rolling and savoring them and not drawing away until I'm sure they're spotless.

I back myself down her body, keeping our skin close enough to barely graze. When I reach her hips I allow her one kiss on the shaved skin where the front of her panties would be if she was wearing any. She's already flirting with the edge of her control, and if I head straight for home without warning it's probably going to shock her into orgasm. I want to keep her on the threshold for as long as I can, and it's in both of our favor to let her take my hint and prepare herself for what she knows I'm going to do.

I wrap one arm under her leg and prop it on my shoulder, opening her up beautifully to me. I pause, not touching her or kissing but just letting her squirm in expectancy. When she starts to whimper I give in to her, blowing a light and steady stream of air from her entrance up to her clit. Her hips are rolling faster, and the hand I have splayed on her stomach to keep her still tells me she's close, her muscles faintly wanting to spasm and clench.

I press harder into her belly to remind her to lie still, kissing the inside of her thigh so she knows it's coming, just not as soon as she wants. I'm having too much fun.

I smile to myself in anticipation. I have no idea how she's going to react, but it's bound to be fantastic.

Very carefully, I touch her clit with the strawberry.

"Damon!" she squeaks and if it wasn't for my hand holding her to the counter, her hips would have bucked clear off. "You…" she pants, "you can't do that…"

I try not to laugh, she's so cute. Instead, I flick my tongue once over her clit, moaning at the sweetness.

"_Oh God_, Damon…"

"Tell me why we can't do this again?" I whisper.

"Do what?"

Another press of berry and swipe of my tongue, and she twitches at the first but melts at the second.

"Sticky…" she breathes.

"Tasty."

I kiss the inside of her thigh as I pet the skin of her stomach, pleased when I feel it start to shake under her quiet laughter.

"And it's cold," she pouts at me with a hint of a smile. She lays one arm behind her head so she can better see me, lacing her other fingers through mine and holding them flat against her.

"That's half the fun," I smirk.

"You are so _bad_," she grins and shakes her head.

"Mm-hmm," I nod with another kiss to her leg. "And evil," I say, pressing my lips closer to her center. "And reckless…"

"Dangerously sexy," she purrs.

"Absolutely rotten..."

Her giggle stops instantly when I circle her with my lips, kissing her slow and soft and losing myself in the taste of her. She moans and her fingers weave into my hair, gripping in harmony with each circuit of my tongue. There's nothing as satisfying as getting her to lose control, to abandon all sense of inhibition and pull me closer.

I take my time teasing her, using my full arsenal of tongue and lips and teeth to build her orgasm. I don't know how to control the craving in me, longing for the pitch of her voice she only reaches when she cries out my name in climax because other than gasping for breaths she doesn't need, it's the only other thing that she knows.

She trembles in release, calling my name over and over and over again. I want to forget all my words and the sound of my mother's voice, the whispering of curtains against windows and the ruffling of sheets. I don't want to know anything else but her, but I make myself bid farewell to the source of my symphony because even though she's no longer human, I need to let her breathe.

I straighten and look her over, and as my eyes skirt over olive skin I find that I'm still in awe that I'm allowed to see her. And not only see, but touch and taste and feel and caress and love and just…_everything_.

"What?" she whispers with a smirk, faintly blushing at me openly staring at her.

_You're the most beautiful thing I have ever seen._

_You've changed my whole life in more ways than you'll ever know. _

_The only thing I want in this whole world is to make you smile. _

_I will never give you up._

_And I don't know how to tell you any of this, but I really hope you know._

"Nothing," I smile and shake my head at her, bending to kiss her stomach and allowing my hands to explore her.

She weaves her fingers over mine as I cup and massage her breasts, and I let her guide me when she layers all four together and rests them over her heart.

"Damon, look at me," she says quietly and I make myself do as she says.

She pulls one hand free to cup my face, making sure my eyes stay locked with hers. She squeezes my hands that are over her chest, pressing them deeper into her skin.

"Yours."

_Mine._

I drop my forehead to her stomach, my breath sneaking past the grin I didn't give permission to rise. But there's no controlling the uptick in my pulse, the drug of relief and adrenaline in the knowledge that she's right here. It's not stolen, it's not forbidden, it's not only once and I don't have to worry about tomorrow. She won't have to jump over my balcony, disappearing into the trees and I'm safe to fall asleep with her in my arms, not wondering if she'll still be here when I wake up.

She's mine.

I draw my hands from her grasp, sliding them under her back so I have her shoulder blades settled in my palms. I straighten and bring her with me, draping her arms around my neck and her head follows, her lips brushing the top of my shoulder. Her body is loose and molds to me, not offering the slightest resistance as I scoot her forward so we're impossibly closer.

She is slick and warm and I enter her easily, sliding into all that is familiar and welcoming but still somehow new. My hand on her back holds her to me, pressing all the endless inches of perfect skin deeper into my chest. I weave my fingers into her hair, her cheek brushing mine and her ragged breaths hot over my ear. It would be so easy to give into it all and thrust hard and fast, but I don't. I want it to go on forever.

I roll my body as slow as I can manage, and with each lengthy stroke I feel everything that she is. Her trust in each pause as I pull back out, making us wait until we join again. Her forgiveness as she stretches to adapt to me, to receive all that I am. She's patient with me as I stop to caress her skin, to trace the leg that's wrapped around my waist and holding me to her. She leans into my kiss when I want her lips, and away from me so I can take her neck. She knows exactly what I want and gives it to me, understanding that the only thing that matters is enjoying her.

I don't know how going so slow makes everything so much more intense. I stop completely, buried inside her and her nails cut into my back. I startle and shift my weight as the grandfather clock strikes and the suddenness of my movement undoes her completely, her teeth sinking into my shoulder as she squeezes and melts over me.

I focus on every throb of her release and the steady contraction brings my own, wrenching sensation from every extremity. It claws to be free all the way from my toes to the tips of my hair, surging through veins until it collects in my hips and burns to find her. It's the sweetest contradiction, raw, exploding passion without ever moving.

My legs are shaking as I try to re-find time and purpose, but all I can feel is her breath on my skin and her heartbeat against mine as I rest my forehead in the safety of her neck.

"Well," she pants, a smile in her voice. "That was different."

"Mm-hmm." I should probably try to tell her something sweet and romantic and soft but I forgot how to speak. And even if I did remember how to form words, the only thing to come from them would be teases and sarcasm because that's the easiest way to tell her I love her. At least she knows it.

"Tired?" she whispers, twirling delicate little painted fingernails through my hair.

I nod and she giggles. I love it when she does that. I press my lips to her collarbone and she sighs, content.

"Love me?" she asks so quietly I barely hear her voice as it drifts over me, tenderly touching every place that I'm vulnerable. I nod again and I feel her mouth curve into a smile against my temple. "More than blood and chocolate?"

I raise my head and look into her eyes, struck by what I find. She was never supposed to love me as much as I love her, but it's all there.

"And strawberries," I grin and kiss her softly, just because I can.

* * *

_FIN_

* * *

**A/N: So, there we have it! Thanks all again for reading, and in the meantime feel free to check out some of my other work. If you like the angsty, head over to Defining Desperation where Damon and Elena try to break each other during his attempts to return her humanity. Or for some pure silly ridiculousness, check out Princess Elena: A Fairytale (of sorts) in which we rehash seasons 1-4 of TVD, fairytale style, with some colorful opinions of a cranky narrator thrown in for shiggles. And if you really wanna make my day, click the follow author button because while I don't actively have anything up my sleeve for Delena right now, you just never know. That, and I'm totally susceptible to peer pressure. **

**Love you all, thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox **


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